Sawdust and Ashes
by Finnigan Geist
Summary: Jess knew full well that worse things than him hid in the darkness. UPDATE: this story is on permanent hiatus. Please see my profile for more information.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: Really? Yeah. No.  
**Notes**: Takes place in season 2, before _A-Tisket, A-Tasket_. This is rated M for a lot of reasons, but the important ones are references to child abuse, language, and, in an upcoming chapter, sexual assault. If any of that makes you - understandably - squeamish, I apologize. But here's your chance to get out. This "M" is not sexy.

* * *

**Sawdust and Ashes (one)**

The truth was this: Liz's third husband was named Ted, and he didn't abandon her like she told everyone he did. It seemed melodramatic enough, given the disappearance of her first husband, and just as likely as anything else except for what actually happened. If anyone was skeptical, or pressed for details, all she needed to do was say, "I guess that's just my luck," or get misty eyed, or some delicate combination of the two if the situation seemed dire, and the person questioning would instantly back off.

It was her own fault, she was sure, but she never could figure out how she might have seen it coming. Ted had been so gentle, so charming, so restrained and so different from most of the men she attracted that she had been sure her luck and life had finally, permanently changed. He didn't do drugs, hardly drank, he listened to her, had almost no temper to speak of, and he liked Jess. He actually had liked her boy, then eleven and awkward and increasingly suspicious of his mother's boyfriends. He had charmed Jess, too, who was not so difficult to charm, then. All he really wanted was the effort, for someone to notice him and treat him like a person who mattered, and his heart was won.

Really, it had been Ted's interaction with Jess that pushed Liz's affection for him into something more serious. Ted was not an exciting man, not in temperament or physical appearance, and at first it was only Liz's determination to be with a man who wasn't a fucking loser that kept her taking his phone calls. His sweetness and steadfastness started to chip away at her disinterest, and before she knew it, Jess was voluntarily talking to Ted, was sitting on the couch next to him in companionable silence, was shyly telling him about school, and there were no more doubts. Prince Charming was no longer dark and dashing, he was pale and slightly beady-eyed and he wore sensible polo shirts tucked into khaki pants. One night, in a haze of post-coital happiness, Liz twined their fingers together and said, "Hey, Ted. I wanna marry you. What do you think about that?" And they got married.

When the shit hit the fan nine months into their marriage and Jess was already gone, recessed into a hole she didn't dare follow into, she really couldn't figure how Ted had managed to blindside them both like that. That she _had_ been blindsided, she was sure, and that she could never tell anyone the enormous crime she had committed against her son in bringing Ted into their lives, equally so. She wasn't sober, wasn't clean, and she couldn't bear the thought of cops digging into her life, nor social services questioning Jess, so she put into effect the most complicated plan she'd ever formed in her life. She kicked Ted out, planted some of her shit in his bags, and called in an anonymous tip the moment she was sure he was at a motel. _Selling drugs to children out of suitcases, officer, I swear to God_.

Of course Liz didn't really think about long-term very well, and the fact that a first time drug charge would hardly incarcerate Ted for the rest of his life never entered her mind once he was gone. Getting him safely away from them in that instant was the only part of the plan; that executed, she had made all the amends to Jess she could think to offer.

So there was no way to describe the magnitude of her surprise when Ted arrived at her door six years later.

* * *

Stars Hollow was a little town, rarely disturbed by more than insufficient displays of neighborly affection, and Jess was still getting accustomed to its so-called charm. The inhabitants were positively Stepford in their kindly smiles and bake-offs and "oh, gosh, the cat's gotten stuck up in the old maple again" ways. It made him suspicious.

He liked it best when people just out-and-out didn't like him and made no friendly overtures. That was why, even though it made very little sense, even to Jess, he was more comfortable around Taylor Doose than most of the other residents. Taylor hated him openly, with narrow eyes and a tight mouth that made his beard look bushier in his anger. Plus, he was just so darn easy to irritate.

At the moment, though, Taylor was in _his_ territory, in the diner, irritating _him_. Inside the diner was the one arena where Taylor had any power to piss Jess off. And it seemed like Taylor was catching on. He stood over Taylor's mug with a pot of steaming coffee, murder in his eyes. He was sure Taylor never actually came to Luke's to eat or drink or enjoy the company of his fellow man. He did it to be an unbearable gargoyle.

"What. Can I get you?" Jess ground out between teeth bared in something that was supposed to be a smile.

"Well," Taylor began, and just from the tone of voice, Jess knew he was in for an exercise in self control, "I was wondering why exactly there are no vegan options on this menu." He raised his eyebrows in a comical "ah-ha!" expression, like he had just caught Jess in a lie.

Jess stared. Blinked. Continued to stare.

"Now, I personally, am not a vegan. I'm not even vegetarian. To be honest, I think it's a perversion of the natural order of the food chain. But there are tourists out there who might be! And what are they going to do when they get here and find out that there are no restaurants in the area that will accommodate their freakish dietary needs?"

"I don't write the menu, Taylor." He just hoped he'd never have to hear the word "perversion" from Taylor Doose again.

"Well, tell Luke, then!"

"No," he said blankly.

"I will never understand why you are so determined to undermine the success of this town. You live here, too, young man."

"I am a mystery." Jess glanced at his watch, absently wondering how long it would be until the bus from Hartford got in. If it was soon, he should start making a fresh pot of coffee. Taylor was saying something again, but Jess was done with it. He sighed and looked out the window, where a small crowd was milling across the street.

The first time his eyes passed over the man, he felt nothing, but as he scanned back across the figure, adrenaline surged throughout him to his fingertips. It had been years, but he knew that face, that hunched, apologetic stance. He was gone in a second, passing behind a building, but Jess' gaze remained fixed on the spot he had been.

Ted. A million memories gurgled up from the back of his mind, dark and fetid and burning like acid. Fear and astonishment crashed through him like a jolt of electricity. For a moment, his vision blanked. Jess didn't notice his fingers go slack on the pot of coffee, not even when it slipped from his grasp and landed on the table with a thud that silenced the diner.

He took an involuntary step back, touching a hand to his face, reeling. There was no way Ted was here. Ted was gone. He couldn't remember exactly how or why, but Ted was gone. Forever gone, because he had already done this, he was done with terror and humiliation and weakness, and he would not do it again. It didn't happen, anyway; this sort of thing was unreal. Ted wouldn't track him down, wouldn't show up in fucking _Stars Hollow_, not least because people like Ted simply ceased to exist in the town limits.

_Not possible_, he insisted, and he might have said it out loud, but he wasn't sure, because clearly he was hallucinating or experiencing some sort of mental fugue. If he wasn't, he wouldn't have thought he'd seen Ted. He hadn't thought of Ted in years. He was still insisting _not possible not possible not possible_ in his head when Taylor's indignant squawking tugged his consciousness back to reality.

"Some of that splashed me!" he was yelling, brushing furiously at his sleeve with a napkin. "You're lucky that didn't hit my skin! That is very, very hot coffee!" He emphasized the last words by jabbing a finger at the pot sitting on his table. "Honestly, how can you be so careless? I'm going to charge you for any dry cleaning this cardigan requires!"

Jess looked around the diner quickly, hardly noticing that almost everyone was watching them; watching _him_, still standing dumbly by Taylor's side. Luke stepped out from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a rag.

"Taylor, what the hell is wrong with you now?"

All Jess heard of the reply was "Your _nephew_" before tuning out the conversation. He walked straight out the door, grabbing his coat on the way. He heard Luke calling his name as he headed down the steps, but he didn't slow down. It was impossible that he saw Ted, but that didn't stop him from bee-lining to where he thought he saw the man, whipping around the corner and anxiously scanning the crowd.

Ted wasn't there. His heart rate didn't slow down, though, and the hot sting of anxiety burned high in his throat. Jess walked briskly down the street, looking in windows, ducking down side streets. He would walk up and down every quaint fucking nook of the town if that's what it took to prove to himself he was wrong.

He lost track of time as he searched. He was obliquely aware of the people around him eyeing him curiously, especially as the day went on. Jess didn't _give a shit_, though, couldn't, not when a wiry man with an apologetic slump was constantly in his periphery. Every time he thought he saw Ted, he turned to see nothing. It was like the man's specter was roaming Jess' mind, teasing his eyesight from inside his head.

His mind kept tripping over memories, things he hadn't thought of for years, over touches and murmurs and idiotic things like that time he played Battleship with Ted and Ted let him win. _You're a good kid_, he heard from nowhere, _you're such a good boy._

It was cold and dusky when he found himself back at the bridge, angry and coiled tight. He'd spent the entire time completely scattered, furious with himself for shaking loose so easily. His head hurt, his muscles ached with tension, and he felt like he was going to come apart completely if anyone so much as nudged him. His skin would crumble off and his muscles would fall away from his bones like sand.

Jess smoked without knowing he was doing it, running over everything in his head. He kept thinking about that year. He honestly wasn't sure what _had_ happened to Ted. One day, he was gone, and Liz was a complete wreck. She apologized over and over and clung to his shoulders and cried. She promised him, her words slurred through tears, that Ted would never come near them again. Now he couldn't remember if she had ever been more specific than that; if there had been any sort of indication _why_ he should have trusted that promise.

At the time, he hadn't known what standard procedure was. He hadn't talked to any police, though. Hadn't gone to a doctor. If anyone _had_ prosecuted Ted, they had done so without any sort of evidence from Jess. He flicked the butt of his cigarette into the lake, scowling.

He was deeply uneasy. Two weeks ago, Liz called out of the blue to check on him. Just saying "hello," according to her, just making sure he was healthy and happy. He had stared at the mouthpiece of the phone for a full twenty seconds before thinking of anything to say. He hadn't talked directly to his mother in months, and that included the holidays.

Thinking back, the call was suspicious, too. He didn't seriously think it was possible that Liz knew something about Ted moving to Stars Hollow or something bizarre, but he wanted to kill every doubt. Tomorrow, he'd have to call her and get some definite answers. He couldn't imagine how freaked out she'd be at him bringing up Ted, but she'd probably feel so guilty she'd tell him everything. He just wanted some sort of confirmation that he was wrong, that the panic churning in the pit of his stomach was stupid and unfounded and that he was acting like a child.

The wind tugging through his hair felt like fingers and he fought back an intense feeling of nausea. He couldn't stand still, but there was nowhere to _go_ in this fucking town. He turned on his heel without any plan for where he was heading, just walking, just going anywhere, just not thinking about the phantom hands on his back because Ted wasn't there.

The path led him down more residential streets and he almost tripped over himself when he saw Rory and Dean. Jess ducked behind a cluster of trees, not even sure why he was hiding, and angrily squelched the thought that it was sort of a stalker move. Rory was still in her Chilton uniform, overstuffed backpack dwarfing her small frame. It looked like they were talking.

Jess cursed himself silently. He was not going to be that guy. He was not going to moon around hiding in plants waiting for a girl who claimed to be in love with a sentient oak. He had pride. He would just go, keep down his path, because he was coming this way anyway and he'd be damned if he did anything different because of them. Plus, it would piss Dean off because he'd think Jess was doing it on purpose to bother him.

He was about to do just that when he saw the couple kiss and part ways. Rory turned and started down the street in Jess' direction and Dean watched her go, walking backwards slowly, a sappy smile on his face. Jess thought of big dumb Dean lumbering into a low-hanging tree branch and let himself laugh at the mental image. He felt some of the tension in his shoulders relax and sighed. The hot, angry ball of worry was still pulsing at the base of his skull, but he could ignore that for now.

Jess watched Rory approach, her ridiculous private school skirt lifted by the breeze. He bit back a smile at the lovely thoughts those little pleats inspired and mentally timed when Rory would be in the perfect place to frighten the bejeezus out of her. He stepped out from behind the tree, right at Rory's shoulder, and said, "Hey."

"God!" She leapt in a half-circle to face him, hand on her heart, eyes bright. "Jess! What is the matter with you?"

He shrugged and leaned casually against the tree, tapping out a cigarette. "You should really be careful, little girl. You never know who could be waiting in the bushes." He raised his eyebrows suggestively, but the words tasted like bile on his tongue. Not that Ted was anywhere near here.

Rory regained enough of her composure to focus her energy on glaring him down. He made a curious noise at the back of his throat and lit the cigarette.

"If the worst thing hanging out in the bushes of Stars Hollow is you, Jess, I think we're all right. I've never heard of anyone sustaining fatal wounds from an excess of surliness."

He laughed at that because he was frightened, because he knew full well that worse things hid in the darkness. The back of his head throbbed and he took an extra long pull on his cigarette. He hadn't thought before of what it might mean to the rest of Stars Hollow if Ted actually were in town. What it might mean to someone like Rory, who was so quietly fascinating and so fragile. He tried to reassure himself with the thought that, if he actually had seen Ted, then someone like Rory wasn't exactly his speed. But Ted wasn't there. He simply wasn't.

Rory crossed her arms and frowned at him. "Aren't you supposed to be at Luke's? He was looking for you earlier."

"Nope," he replied, rocking against the tree so his shoulder blades bounced gently back and forth against the trunk.

"Well, yes he _was_ looking for you earlier, and I'm pretty sure you are supposed to be there. He said you just took off in the middle of a shift. Is something wrong?" Her expression was softening into something like concern and he was filled with the urge to irritate her back into anger. He liked getting her riled, and it was easier to handle than pity.

"Guess I just felt the call of the wild all of a sudden." He indicated the surrounding foliage with a dismissive flick of his fingers.

She huffed gently. "I think Luke was worried."

"No reason to be. I'm a big boy, and like you said, I'm the worst thing lurking around this town." _You're a good boy, Jess_, he heard in the back of his head, echoing from the place that was pounding with tension. He swallowed hard and threw the cigarette away, not even half smoked.

Rory shifted uncomfortably, obviously unsure what to feel. She looked torn between aggravation and concern. "Jess, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

She half-pouted at him and he was surprised at how quickly his temper flashed up, sparking white dots in his vision. He didn't owe her any explanations about his moods, and he was about to say so when she cut off his train of thought.

"So, are you going to walk me home?"

"What?"

Rory shrugged. "It's getting kind of dark, and even if there's no one worse than you around, there might be… bears."

"Bears."

"Yes, bears." Her chin lifted defiantly. "And when you get done with that, you can come back here and lurk in the bushes again or return to the diner, or whatever."

"OK." His anger was still riding high in his spine, but he pushed that away, tucked it up under the ball of anxiety next to his heart, and saved it for later. He indicated the path with one hand. "After you, Goldilocks."

She smiled at him brightly and they fell into step together. He shoved his hands in his coat pockets, letting his elbows stick out at sharp angles. When his right arm swung, it almost brushed her left.

"Oh!" she said, clapping her hands like a little girl. "I just thought of another good one!"

"Good one what?"

"Insult about how you're not as dangerous as you think you are." She watched him with raised eyebrows like she was waiting for him to be angry.

"Well, don't keep me waiting."

"'What, are you planning on killing people with an overdose of Teen Spirit?'"

Jess snorted. "Yeah, good one."

"Don't be jealous of my wit."

"How can I help it?" They kept stride easily, and Jess was thinking that the day was going a lot better than he had thought possible when he spoke again. "Just out of curiosity, what makes you think I can defend you against bears? I mean, any better than Dean could? He's about the size of one."

Rory's face fell instantly and Jess regretted speaking. For whatever reason, he just couldn't resist poking that wound.

"God, nevermind," she snorted, taking off at a quicker pace. Jess jogged to catch up with her.

"Where are you going? I can't possibly let you walk the twenty feet from here to your house when I know there might be big bears walking around."

She said nothing and didn't slow down.

"What if they're circus bears? Those are the worst. They might be armed with comically tiny hats and unicycles."

They rounded the corner that led to her street and Jess was overwhelmed with the need to not let this end with her mad at him. There wasn't enough time to tease forgiveness from her, so he would have to make do with an actual apology. "Look, Rory, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. I really am happy to walk you home in this psychotically safe town. So happy to do it that I promise I won't compare Dean to a bear ever again."

"Ugh, why do you care?" Rory spun around and glared at him. She was adorable, cheeks flushed lightly from frustration and the gentle sting of cold. "Why do you want to spend any time with me when you clearly don't respect the relationships I have with the most important people in my life?"

Jess sighed and rocked his head back, staring at a slate-grey sky. No clouds anywhere, and yet, dreary as fuck. Early Spring was kind of a hideous time of year. He set his jaw, chewing on the words he wanted to say, and it took all the will in his body to keep from suggesting that he could make things up to Dean by gifting him with a comically tiny hat or a unicycle.

He let his head loll slowly back down until he was looking her in the eye. "Rory, I'm sorry. I can't explain to you all the ways I don't know how to interact with people, and I've been having a seriously weird day." Her stance relaxed and the furrows between her eyebrows disappeared. "We're friends, right?"

She looked almost alarmed at his use of the word. "Yes, yes we are. Friends." She nodded to emphasize the point.

"OK then." He shrugged one shoulder. "I'm really sorry. I don't want to make you angry. I think I read somewhere that bears can smell it like dogs smell fear."

She chuffed out a reluctant laugh and bounced her fists against her thighs.

"So, can I escort you the rest of the way home?"

Rory nodded, smiling shyly. "You better." They walked the rest of the way in silence, comfortable this time, and he stopped at the bottom of the porch stairs. She turned when she reached the front door to wave. Jess sketched a little bow.

Her smiled changed into something private, something secret, and his heart stuttered. She slipped into the door without fully turning away from him or ever quite meeting his eyes but paused halfway inside. She leaned back around the storm door, tucking her chin against its edge.

"Please go back to Luke's," she said. "I'm sorry you're having a bad day, but he's worried about you." He stared at her until her gaze dropped and she shuffled a toe on the ground. "At least let him know you haven't been mauled by ravening circus bears." With that, she went inside, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Jess swallowed roughly and headed back in the direction of the diner. She confused him and left him feeling elated, though he knew he shouldn't get his hopes up. Sometimes he felt certain of her, like he could open up her mind and understand everything inside. The rest of the time, he felt wildly off-kilter. Rory had started out as a distraction, a pretty girl who talked to him and held her own, who was sheltered but would be outraged if you suggested it, who was fun to flirt with and tease. There was no way she would seriously consider him, too high above him on her Harvard dreams and the shoulders of her puppyish boyfriend.

But she was always surprising him, spinning him around when he was least expecting it. She was fascinating and frustrating and standing too close to her made his fingers itch to be in her hair. At the least likely times, he would look at her and feel her in his reach, closer to his plane than the town would ever dare to suspect. And sometimes he looked in her eyes and knew, he _knew_, her thoughts were miles away from Dean. But just when he would get confident, she would reel away from him, back to comfort zones he didn't understand.

Jess exhaled heavily through his nose and rubbed the back of his head, remembering again. Ted. Ted, who wasn't here, who didn't exist anymore except as a grim memory, who was regardless burrowing out of the darkest places in Jess' mind and making him crazy.

He didn't notice that he was going through the motions of getting out another cigarette until he was smoking it, the familiar sting lacing his lungs. He realized where he was unconsciously heading when he saw the William's Hardware sign down the street and veered left. It wasn't that he wanted Luke to worry, or that he didn't care that Luke _was _worried. He just couldn't be indoors. The town made him feel claustrophobic on a good day, and being inside the four close walls of the apartment he shared with Luke might just make him crawl out of his own skull.

He had no specific ideas for mischief when he reached the school. Maybe he'd climb up to the roof, just because he could, and do nothing more than smoke the rest of his rapidly diminishing supply of cigarettes and know that he was the one who left the crushed remnants up there. He was in a bad enough mood, however, to entertain thoughts of fiddling with some of the wiring. Smirking privately, he slipped into the shadows.

* * *

Luke was still in the diner, distracted, glancing out the window every ten seconds to see if Jess was coming back. The kid's mood was often unpredictable, and his tendency to leave without letting anyone know where he was going was like a "thing" of his now, but he never left in the middle of a shift. If Luke was paying him, Jess was there. And Luke might not have been the most perceptive when it came to reading sullen teenagers, but the way he left – practically dropping coffee on Taylor's head and bolting out the door – was sufficient indication that something was actually wrong.

For the first time in his life, Luke wished for a cell phone, just so he could stick it to his nephew. Even if Jess didn't answer it, he might at least be able to track him down by calling the phone and hunting him down by the ringtone. Luke sighed heavily. Stupid kid. Luke was distracted now, and giving less stellar service to his customers than usual. There weren't a lot of them around, it being relatively late on a Tuesday night, but it was another thing to blame on Jess, and Luke was in the mood to be aggravated.

"This is dumb," he muttered to himself. He'd go track down Jess on his own, just to appease his own worry, and then he'd stick Jess' head down a toilet and flush it _eternally_. Something about that kid brought out Luke's most juvenile side.

He asked Cesar to lock up for him, or, in the off chance Jess came back, to have _him_ close up. As he stepped outside, he wished for a cell phone of his own, and that was absolutely a first. How was he supposed to know if Jess returned? What if he spent hours trying to hunt the punk down and came home only to find that he'd been back for hours? Luke's hand lingered on the doorknob, mentally weighing the options. Wait and worry or search around town and worry, but at least be distracted.

This was absolutely the last time he'd do something like this, Luke assured himself as he walked down the steps, bumping shoulders with a tall, pale-faced man who was going into the diner. Luke muttered an apology and headed into the square with purpose. Every step brought him greater conviction of the epic talking-to he was going to give Jess when he found him.

Unsurprisingly, he guessed, he didn't find the kid on his first walk-through of the town. Luke shook himself mentally and reconsidered his plan. Just stomping around Stars Hollow wasn't going to get him very far. He should probably check with someone who might have actually seen Jess, and the only name that popped into his head was Rory. Yes, the Gilmore's. No reason not to go.

He rapped tentatively on the back door, telling himself it made perfect sense to check here. The only other person who willingly talked to Jess was in here. If Luke also got to see Lorelai, well. Bonus. He heard Lorelai yelling as she walked through the kitchen, "Rory, do burglars knock now, or is this just your boyfriend being weird and not remembering that we have a front door?"

She opened the door and stopped short. "Oh. Um. I'm sorry, I don't want any encyclopedias."

"What?"

"Don't need them. I've got this kid that's an encyclopedia. She's actually much lighter than a whole set of books, too. So, no thank you, no encyclopedias here."

Luke blinked at her. "Lorelai, what are you talking about?"

She smiled, cocking a hip and leaning into the door. "Luke, what on earth are you doing here? It's nine o'clock. The only people I could think of showing up – at my back door – at this time of night are encyclopedia salesmen and, I don't know, escorts."

Lorelai swiveled her hips back and forth and leaned forward. "And I didn't order an escort service. Tonight."

"I was hoping to talk to Rory."

She straightened. "Well, I _know_ Rory didn't call for an escort."

"Can I come in?"

"Sure, sure." She gestured for him to step inside and he was inwardly grateful that Lorelai was one of a kind. Even having the most basic interaction with her could be so tiring.

"Rory! Your gigolo is here!"

"What?" Rory stepped out of her room and her face fell when she saw Luke. "Oh, hi."

"Hey, Rory. I'm really sorry to bother you. Are you busy?"

"Um, no, not really. Is it – is everything OK?"

Luke sighed, putting his hands on his hips. "Well, I was just wondering if you've seen Jess."

Rory tucked her hands into the sleeves of her overlong sweater. "Earlier, yeah. Like at five? He walked me home."

Lorelai was suddenly at full attention, her expression hard. "He walked you home?"

"Yeah," Rory muttered, tucking hair behind her ear.

"What, did you forget the way?"

"No," she replied, shooting her mother a timid imitation of a glare. "He just – I knew that Luke was looking for him and something seemed wrong and I thought maybe he'd talk to me about it if we just walked together, but he didn't say."

"I thought you were spending time with Dean earlier," Lorelai said, but, apart from some nervous shuffling on Rory's part, was largely ignored.

"You thought something was wrong, too?" Luke asked.

Rory nodded and Lorelai flipped her attention to Luke. "What's going on?"

"Oh." Luke shuffled his feet. "He sort of ran out of the diner earlier and I haven't seen him since."

Lorelai tapped her fingers restlessly against her hips. "You might want to, I don't know, search the skyline for smoke?"

"Mom!"

"No, I'm sure he's fine," Luke cut in. "I was just kind of worried. It's stupid."

Lorelai searched Luke's face, holding her breath. She let out a _whoof_ of air and closed her eyes, seeming to relax. "I'm sorry, Luke. It's not stupid. He's probably back at the diner already or something."

"Yeah, probably. Sorry to bother you."

"It's no bother," Rory said. Luke nodded at her gratefully and headed for the door.

"Luke, really," Lorelai said, stopping him. "It's no trouble. Not knowing where your kid is, well, that's a pretty terrible feeling. Give us a call when you get back to the diner and let us know if you find him."

"OK."

"And if we hear anything, we'll call you."

"Thanks. I think if he's not back by the time I get there, I'm gonna keep looking. I'm just not going to be able to get any rest waiting around at the apartment."

"Yeah."

"I kind of have a bad feeling."

Lorelai nodded.

"Tell me it's stupid." He hated how desperate he sounded.

She sighed, expression solemn. "He's fine."

"Thanks," he replied, but he wasn't comforted. "Goodnight, Lorelai."

* * *

Jess was comfortable with sneaking into places. He was good at it, like he was good at sleight-of-hand and infuriating people. He slipped into the dark of the apartment and was surprised to see Luke's bed empty and still made. He glanced around, almost worried Luke might be hiding somewhere, waiting to jump out at him and smack him in the back of the head.

Noting there wasn't enough room in the apartment for anyone to hide, Jess relaxed and unzipped his jacket, kicked his shoes off and walked over to the table, where he spotted a note.

_Jess_

_I'm out looking for your stupid ass. If you get home before I do, stay up. We're having a talk, and you're not going to like it if I have to wake you up. It better not be after midnight when you're reading this. I am going to be so angry with you if you're keeping me up that late._

Jess glanced at the clock – 12:25. He grimaced and threw his coat over a chair, balling up the note. This town was weird. _Luke_ was weird. He probably shouldn't have just taken off like that, but it wasn't like Luke was usually that concerned with him being vaguely "out," and before coming here he'd never actually encountered one of those mythical beasts he'd heard rumors about: guardians that cared where you were if you were out late.

He shook his head in silent frustration. What sort of trouble was he going to get into in this town after 11, anyway? Switch all of Babette's gnomes with Mr. Dawkin's ornamental lawn menagerie? And Ted wasn't out there. Jess stilled at the thought and eyed the door nervously, hating himself for every second of fear. He was exhausted from anxiety and his head still throbbed, but he had mostly convinced himself that he had completely imagined things that afternoon in the diner.

Ted wasn't in Stars Hollow. It just wasn't a possibility. Jess closed his eyes and breathed heavily through his nose, fingering the edges of his shirtsleeves. It wasn't even worth thinking about. Luke would be home soon, would bluster and yell and lay down ultimatums Jess would ignore and everything would be normal – or, rather, this new, strange version of normal he was living.

Jess sort of wished Luke was home. It made him feel guilty that he was out searching in the cold, that he had been for some idiotic amount of time. That was weird, too, the guilt. He didn't know what to do with that and had no idea how to make amends. "Sorry" was a concept he just couldn't get his mind around, at least not with authority, and it was more fun anyway to sneak into the diner after hours and clean or fix something and confuse Luke, and sometimes as a bonus, Cesar.

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair, shaking out some of the mousse-crust. It was getting kind of preposterously tall, but he wasn't sure he trusted anyone in this town to cut it. He absolutely refused to go anywhere that had one of those red-and-white-striped barber's poles. He rubbed his face and hated his own brain, too scattered to focus on anything for more than five seconds at a time.

Jess punched the table half-heartedly and stood to change into pajamas. He had the pants on (flannel, plaid, a present from Luke that he actually kind of liked) and was pulling his shirt off over his head when he heard footsteps on the stairs.

He had developed a sense, wherever he was, for identifying footsteps. It was just a survival skill to know when someone was approaching and, whenever possible, who. Luke's diner was creaky in a different way the apartments he'd lived in were, and the first couple of weeks sleeping in his new home had freaked him out until he got accustomed to the sounds. Now he knew the noises as well as if he'd lived there all his life.

They were definitely footsteps. That was odd, since he hadn't heard the chipper ringing of the bell that signaled anyone's entrance downstairs. Maybe Luke had been staking him out after all, waiting for him to come home so he could freak him out. It was exceptionally unlikely – Luke was not the sort of man for making plans like that, especially since he would be too eager to scold Jess for worrying him.

Beyond that, those were not Luke's footsteps. Luke was virtually the only person who came up the stairs besides him, and he was never tentative. These steps were surreptitious, wary. He didn't remember what Ted's footsteps sounded like, but it couldn't be him, anyway. He wasn't in Stars Hollow. The chorus of _not possible_ that had been running in the back of Jess' mind all day was sounding high-pitched and panicky.

He stepped cautiously into the center of the room, slowly drawing a fresh t-shirt over his head. He tried to assure himself that he was hallucinating, that he had just gone completely insane and was suffering auditory hallucinations. Did people have schizophrenic breaks in their late teens?

"Fuck this," he said to no one, to the ghost of Ted, and strode to the door, pulling it open.

Part of him actually wasn't surprised when he saw Ted in the dim light, standing two steps down from the landing.

"Jess," the man breathed. He looked relieved, and Jess frantically thought that yes he must be crazy, or Ted was, because this was too surreal to be happening.

Ted rested a heavy hand on the banister and pulled himself, slouching, onto the landing. His other hand he held up, fingers spread wide. "I know you must be pretty confused right now, but please trust me when I say I don't want to hurt you. I just want to talk."

Jess swallowed and took a step back. Some bizarre noise, like a bird chirping, escaped from his throat. _I don't want to hurt you. I didn't mean to hurt you. I would never hurt you, that shouldn't have hurt you._

"I just got out of prison, Jess," he continued, taking Jess' silence as an invitation to speak. "I wanted to see you again. I had to say how sorry –" he stopped and sighed, pale eyes tracking over Jess' face.

Jess couldn't think. _Not possible I don't want to hurt you you're such a good boy_

In a distant part of his mind, Jess noted that he was seeing everything with a lag of about two seconds. Ted's mouth would move and he would hear the words a moment later. He didn't hear the soft scraping of Ted's feet across wood until the man was three feet away.

Ted's expression was sad, apologetic. His sorry expression, exactly as Jess remembered it, was now deepened with lines of age. "It's been so long," he whispered, "since I've seen you. You really have grown up so much.

"Oh, Jess."

And when Ted leaned in as though to embrace him, Jess' mind finally caught up, but by then it was too late.

to be continued


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes**: This chapter was really, really difficult to write. I would appreciate hearing any thoughts/comments/concerns you have about it. Also, this was a very quick update for me and future chapters will not come this quickly. I apologize. Also also, I will always do my best to respond to you if you want to discuss something about this story (I am very open to the concept of private messaging). This author's note is sort of disconnected and rambling. Sorry.

* * *

**(two)**

This is what didn't happen: Someone saved him. Before Ted could hurt him, someone came through the door. It was Luke returning from his search, happy to come home, only to find someone looming over his nephew. In Jess' mind, he could see the moonlight reflected in Luke's eyes, wide with righteous fury. They would grapple and Luke would throw Ted bodily from the window or down the stairs, and no one would charge him with Ted's death.

It was a neighbor, or anyone, walking down the street, who heard Jess' rage and disbelief screaming from his lungs into the night air. They would call 911 and clamber into the diner shaky from terror but heroic. Perhaps too nervous to climb the stairs, they would stand at the foot and yell, "Hey! I've just called the police! If anyone's in here who isn't supposed to be – you'd better go!" And they would run into the street to await the safety of sirens.

It was even Ted, ending it quickly. He would pull a gun Jess hadn't seen before and press it to his forehead while sobbing apologies in his ear. When Ted pressed the trigger, Jess would hear the discharge before it sounded and the bullet slipped through his head and lodged into the wood floor, where his brains and blood would patter gently.

But none of that happened and no one stopped Ted.

* * *

Ted was the manager of a grocery store in a franchise, which meant that sometimes he worked night shifts and would be home when Jess got back from school. Jess kept track of those days, posted on a calendar on the refrigerator, and he wouldn't hang out with friends or sit in the library then. He'd come straight home to find Ted, usually sitting on the couch, sometimes napping, sometimes waiting for him at the kitchen table, nursing a diet cola of some sort.

It was a little weird, the way Ted would watch Liz drink herself stupid some nights with a small uncomfortable smile on his face, posing no objections but not participating. Once, Jess had asked him why he didn't like beer, and Ted cocked his head.

"Oh, it's not that I don't like it. I actually do drink, but not very often," and here he leaned in a little to Jess, raising his eyebrow, "and not around _you_." He relaxed back in his chair again and his gaze fell to his fingers, lazily tracing circles on the tabletop. "Besides, I have enough vices already." That confused Jess, not least because Ted didn't seem to have vices at all. At least, not the kinds his mother did.

But Ted was a strange guy, and that was something Jess had long since gotten used to. He hated him a little at first in the way he hated most of the guys who came home with his mother, but Ted especially because he was odd. Not mean, not stupid or a leech, just different in a way he couldn't understand. Something about his face was always a little sad and it unnerved Jess how he watched everything. He watched Liz when she did the dishes and thought he was reading the paper, but Jess always knew when he was watching him. He said nothing about it for a while, but eventually he got sick of feeling Ted's eyes on him while he read and he whipped around and said "_What_?" with as much attitude as his age would lend him.

Ted had indicated the book with a nod of his head and asked, "What are you reading?" and he'd actually been interested in Jess' answer. Then Ted talked about the books he'd read, which he admitted wasn't a huge number, and offered to lend Jess some from his small collection. Jess was caught off guard at the unexpected generosity, and figured that maybe Ted wasn't terrible. And though Ted managed to appear solemn all of the time, he joked a lot and smiled plenty, and soon enough, Jess couldn't remember why he ever thought the man was unpleasant.

One day, remarkably similar to most days, Ted was laying down on the couch, flipping through channels, feet crossed on the armrest. He didn't look up when he heard the door close behind Jess.

"Hey, little man," he called.

"Hey, Ted." He dropped his backpack next to a chair and kicked off his shoes.

"Ahh, you better not just be dropping that anywhere. Put the books in your room. Your mom always trips over your bag if you leave it there." Ted didn't turn around.

Jess sighed. "How do you _know _that?" He lugged the bag to his room and flung it at the bed, delighting at the enormous noise it made when it missed. He left his shoes where they were – still in the way of the door, and likely to be tripped over once his mom got home and headed back to the living room.

Ted let out a low whistle. "Very impressive. The neighbors downstairs will think we got you a hippopotamus." Jess walked around to the couch as Ted continued, "And I know when you leave your books where you're not supposed to because I am a superhero. My super power is detecting minor infractions in domestic law, like when you don't rinse out your cereal bowl. Also, I can hear you pretty easily. That bag has to weigh at least a ton."

"Doesn't," Jess muttered, and shoved at Ted's legs. "God, will you make some _room_?"

Ted let his head drop against the back of the couch dramatically. "I can't help that I'm so tall! And I can't move. I worked a very long shift into the wee hours of this morning in an effort to put food on that table. For you. And your mom."

"Fine," Jess said, and jumped on the couch on top of Ted's legs. Between the strangeness of the angle and the boniness of Ted's legs, it was an uncomfortable position. Jess crossed his arms and tried not to wobble. He glanced over at Ted, who had rolled his head back to watch Jess. He was grinning.

"What?" Jess asked, being just as casual as possible.

Ted shook his head. "No, nothing. You comfortable?"

"Very."

"Good. Good." Without warning, Ted lifted his legs, upending Jess onto the floor.

"Woah!" He tumbled gracelessly onto his knees and turned around to glare at Ted, who was laughing. "Hey!"

Ted sobered after a moment. "Sorry, Jess. Couch rules. You aren't allowed up here until you bring me a soda. One for yourself as well."

Jess slowly got to his feet, scowling. He grabbed them both something to drink and came back, only halfway seriously contemplating shaking up the one for Ted. The only thing that really kept him from doing it was the knowledge that _he_ would have to clean up the mess.

He held out a can to Ted without comment and Ted sat up, taking the soda. "Well done, young man. You have earned the honor of sitting next to me."

Jess scoffed softly but still sat on the cushion next to Ted. They watched television together quietly for a while, Ted flipping the channel whenever either one of them expressed dissatisfaction with the program. It was a strange sensation for Jess, this level of comfort with an adult who wasn't his mother. Sometimes he felt himself getting giddy, just sitting silently next to the man.

"So, you finish _Tom Sawyer_?" Ted asked after an unproductive round through the few stations they had.

"_Tom Sawyer_?"

"Isn't that what you were reading?" Ted fiddled absently with his wedding ring. He had a lot of nervous habits.

"Yeah, like three years ago."

"Ohhh, excuse me," Ted said, eyes wide in mock-horror. "What's the other one?"

"_Huckleberry Finn_."

"Yes. That one. Finished?"

Jess nodded.

"Yeah?" Ted prompted, smiling. "Didn't you start that like two days ago?"

Jess shrugged and took a drink. Ted shook his head. "Man, Jess." His tone was admiring. "You are a _freak_."

"I am not!" Jess protested, but he was fighting back a grin.

"You are absolutely a freak." Ted reached out and grabbed Jess' head in one big hand. "Look at this impressive noggin! It must weigh fifty pounds!"

"Ugh, stop it!"

"And that's saying something, because you only weigh about a total of seventy."

"Shut up!"

Ted held his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. "All right, all right. We will not discuss your manly physique today."

Jess sort of half-glared and turned his attention back to the television. It wasn't like the reading thing was a big deal; he'd been like that for ages. And some kids _did_ call him a freak for constantly having his nose in a book, but they didn't say it the way Ted did.

Ted put a hand on Jess' shoulder and Jess glanced over. Ted wasn't even looking at him, was just casually draped across the couch. Something he would never admit to anyone was that he enjoyed Ted's slightly abashed gestures of physical affection. People hardly ever touched him at all, with the exception of his mother, and Liz was unpredictable. She would fluctuate without warning between bouts of indifference and acting like she hadn't had human contact in years. Then, she would touch Jess when he walked by, pat his shoulders, rub his back, stop him just to drop a kiss on his head. There was no middle ground between the suffocation and the absence, and Jess found both unsettling.

Ted, on the other hand, was at least consistent in his behavior. At first, he had been distant and seemed hesitant to touch Jess. He appreciated that Ted didn't assume they were best friends just because he was screwing Jess' mom, and as he got to like the man, Ted would sometimes playfully swat Jess' head or give him a manly thump on the back. He still looked a little alarmed when he did it, and would pull quickly away as though he were afraid of getting burned. Jess had never known anyone as quietly fidgety and nervous as Ted, who acted like he was expecting someone to yell at him at any moment.

The more comfortable Jess got with Ted, the more he initiated physical contact. No hugging, because hugging embarrassed him – the only frame of reference he had for hugs was his mom sweeping him into her arms and calling him "baaaaby!" in a horrifying voice, or his uncle Luke, who, the few times they hugged, just kind of whacked his shoulders and looked uncomfortable. But Jess would jab Ted in the ribs or tuck his bare feet under his legs when he was cold and thrill at the novelty of it.

Now they were pretty much at ease with each other, although Ted still didn't look Jess in they eyes when they touched.

Jess nestled his shoulders deeper into the couch cushions, shifting Ted's hand higher up his neck. Ted's rubbed his thumb gently, slowly, against the base of his skull. "You're such a good kid, Jess," Ted said, looking somber. "You're a good boy."

* * *

Luke had never known before how much worry took out of a person. Certainly he had worried when his father was dying, when the business was failing, when he opened the diner and panicked and threw up, whenever Liz called, but now all of that seemed marginal in the grand scheme of anxiety. This fear was different in quality, was like a viper latched onto his heart. The longer he searched for Jess and didn't find him, the less he wanted to scold him. He was actually considering hugging the punk when he found him, if he found him, in one piece. _Then_ he would drag Jess over to the lake and dump him in and pull him out and dump him in again until the constriction was gone from his chest and he could breathe.

Every hour he didn't find Jess, he felt years older, years crazier. He was jealous now of Lorelai in a way he never had been before. That she had done seventeen years of this and still looked as good as she did was inhuman. But, then again, she had been blessed with one of the most well-behaved, freakishly good-tempered children in the history of the world. Maybe if Lorelai had custody of Jess, she'd look like Luke by now. Or Liz.

He was walking down their road again, though he wasn't sure why. If Jess hadn't dropped by to see Rory in the last seven hours, there wasn't exactly any reason to think he would do so now. It was just a place to look, somewhere to walk, something to do while he aged and went crazy and lost the rest of his thinning hair. He cursed softly to himself, rubbing his chin and wishing he had just taken some sedatives and gone to sleep. Odds were that Jess would have been back by the time he woke up in the morning. Now that Luke was looking for him, though, he couldn't rest until he found him.

Luke jogged around the Gilmore house to peek at Rory's window, actually hoping to catch Jess halfway inside it. He'd kill him, but he'd be relieved to do it. Jess wasn't there, though, and Rory's bedroom was dark, the window shut. In another hour, he'd probably run the same loop and peek at Rory's window the same way and find nothing. It was like searching for a lost wallet in the exact same places over and over and expecting to find it.

He'd have to just give up and go back to the diner sooner or later. Luke sidled over the chuppah and brushed a finger over the animals he'd carved, allowing himself a pleasant fantasy that so engaged him he didn't hear footsteps behind him until they were close. He spun around, giving a startled yell even before he saw who was coming.

Lorelai yelled in response, hands flying over her heart.

"Lorelai! You scared me!"

Her eyes flew open and she stared at him, jawline rigid. Her hair was in a ponytail and she wore a thick coat over her pajamas. "Me? Really? I scared you? That's funny, Luke. I forgot about how _you_ lived here and _I_ was the one creeping around your yard at midnight. Sorry, that was really inconsiderate of me!"

Luke swung his arms awkwardly. "I didn't find Jess here," he said, indicating Rory's window.

"I certainly hope not."

They watched each other in silence for a moment before Luke confessed, softly, "I'm going crazy, Lorelai."

She lifted her eyebrows at him as though to say, _yes, you think_?

"Luke, you can't do this to yourself. You have to go back to the diner and get some rest. If Jess isn't back by morning, you can start exploring… other options." She waved her hand in the air dismissively. "Which we won't think about until then. You said that the last time you checked, all his stuff was still in the apartment, so he hasn't taken off or anything. This may be a small town, but it's probably pretty easy for someone like Jess to stay hidden if he doesn't want to be found, and, for whatever reason, Jess seems to want to stay hidden.

"It _sucks_ that you don't know where he is, and it sucks that you're so worried about him that you've turned into one of those creepy men who hides in the bushes around the houses of gorgeous young women, but you will not find him here. You won't find him at Miss Patty's, or the gazebo, or the bridge, or any other place you've already looked twenty times tonight. You'll find him when he comes home.

"Please, Luke. Please go get some rest." Even in the darkness, he could see her expression, sincere and imploring.

Luke rolled his eyes up to the sky and shook his head. He met Lorelai's gaze and asked, without any anger, "So that's what you'd do?"

"What?"

"If you were in my position, looking for Rory? If you couldn't find her and didn't know where she was and you had this weird gut feeling that _something_ was wrong? You'd just go home and you'd… get some rest?"

Lorelai spread her hands out in defeat. "Oh, fine." She turned around and headed for the house. "Wait here."

"What? Lorelai, what are you doing?"

"Just _hang on_." She stomped up her steps and went inside, but not without flinging the door open unnecessarily hard. For one bizarre moment he thought maybe she had gone to get Jess, that maybe he'd been hiding inside as a big joke – ha ha! – all along. Lorelai was gone long enough for him to talk himself into and out of a hundred different strange scenarios, but when she came back out she was wearing jeans and had a flashlight in one hand and her cell phone in the other.

"I'm helping you," she said, shaking the flashlight in his face. "Look, I even have hunting equipment. I couldn't find a tranquilizer gun, but I can probably chuck this phone pretty hard if need be."

He stared at her, slack-jawed. "Lorelai, no, you don't have to –"

"Yes, I do, Luke. Because you've been walking circles around this town for hours and you may actually go insane if you keep doing it alone. Because I will kill you if I wake up to hear you rustling in my bushes one more time tonight. And because you would do it for me if the situation were reversed."

"Thank you, Lorelai."

"Well," she said, turning her head to the side, "just promise me that _I_ get to be the one to throttle him when we find him."

Luke smiled. "All right. But only if you leave him alive enough for me to get to him after."

"It's a deal. Let's go."

They started together down the path. "So, uh, where exactly are we going?" Lorelai shone the flashlight into Luke's face.

"God, put that down!" She did, with an apology that didn't sound the least sincere. "Well, the way I've been doing it is just sort of… making circles, hitting every place I think he might go to or get lost at or fall into or fall _down_ or drown _in_."

"Sounds like a morbidly thorough exercise in knowing your prepositions. Where are we currently on this circuit?"

"Well, I was gonna hit the lake one more time. I've kind of been poking at the bottom with a long stick. Haven't really found anything yet." Lorelai nodded. "Then I was going to check back at the diner. I've been doing that every half-hour or so."

"Good plan."

They got to the bridge and Luke picked up a large branch he'd left by the bank. He almost brained Lorelai when he turned around to show it to her and she shone the flashlight into his eyes again in retaliation.

"Ah, stop that!"

"Well, stop waving that thing around. You'll put an eye out." He didn't need to see her face to know what sort of expression she was wearing; he could hear the amusement in her voice.

"I've just sort of been trying to, I don't know, drag the river with this."

"OK." Lorelai nodded. "Where's mine?"

Together they searched and found something similar to Luke's, but slender and not quite as long. Lorelai made a face at him, but he cut her off before she could make any jokes.

"Look, we're dragging a lake for my nephew's body. Could you please save any phallic jokes at least until we find him?"

"Why, is he _huge_?"

"Lorelai!"

"Fine, fine," she sighed and then looked up, scrunching her nose in distaste. "Oh, ugh. I just grossed myself out with that one." She jabbed sullenly at the water with her stick and Luke walked across the bridge to the opposite bank, dragging his branch behind him as he went.

"So," said Lorelai after maybe two minutes of quiet. Luke smiled to himself, knowing he shouldn't have expected her to keep from talking any longer than that. "What exactly happened this afternoon? Or… I guess, yesterday?"

"I have no idea. He was working a shift in the diner and something happened. He was serving Taylor one minute, and the next, he was out the door and I haven't seen him since."

"Wow. Taylor's got to be wondering what he did right in finally running Jess out of town."

Luke chuckled, though he couldn't think of anything about the situation that was funny. He was just so tired. "Yeah," he said, sobering suddenly, "Taylor's probably pretty excited right now. Can't imagine the sort of festival he'll throw together if we actually find Jess drowned in the lake."

"Luke." Lorelai's tone was half sad, half warning.

"Hell, he'll probably make the lake an official Stars Hollow landmark and build it an altar so we can sacrifice first-born sons to it in appreciation." His voice was very loud and his eyes burned from lack of sleep.

"Don't do that, Luke," Lorelai said, gentle in reply.

"It's crazy," Luke continued. "I'm crazy. _Jess_ is crazy. I'm so mad at him."

"I know. You'll find him."

"He has no idea what responsibility really is, and he has no appreciation for me. He has to know I'd be out of my mind, right?" Luke was shoving his branch around the water violently. "I would never have done this to my father, because I cared about him. You don't do this kind of thing to your family if you love them."

He didn't hear Lorelai go still across from him. "I loved my parents."

Luke stopped and cursed himself. He didn't rant very often, but whenever he did, he almost always managed to say something he absolutely shouldn't. He looked up at Lorelai, who was watching him. His breath caught at the sight of her, gently illuminated in the spare light of the moon and her flashlight, lying on the ground at her feet. She didn't look angry.

"I'm sorry, Lorelai."

"It's all right. I've been called much worse things than careless. And I really did run my parents ragged. It's weird," she said, resuming her search of the lake, "how much trouble I gave them, and look at the kid I get. Some days I worry I take it for granted, and I never want to take it for granted. That girl…." Her voice was soft, and Luke felt nervous, like he was getting an audience to something private, something of Lorelai's that hadn't been shared before. "She's so amazing. She makes me believe in the divine."

Abashed, Luke looked down at the surface of the water. He walked past the bridge and jabbed at the water over the edge he hadn't checked yet. "What are you doing about Rory?"

"What about Rory?" Lorelai no longer sounded gentle.

"I just mean… what if she wakes up in the morning and you aren't there? That's gonna be weird."

"Well, for a start, I'm really hoping to be home before Rory would usually get up for school, or I am going to rip your nephew's legs off and beat him in the head with his own feet. And… I already told Rory where I would be."

"You left her a note?"

"No, she was awake when I came downstairs." Luke didn't know why, but Lorelai was irritated.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, pretty sure, unless it was my _other_ daughter. Is it just me, or is it freezing out here?"

"But her light was off when I looked in her window –"

Lorelai put her hand up. "Luke, for the love of God, never say those words to me again. I know you were looking for Jess, but _please_. You have to understand how incredibly creepy it is for you to be sneaking around, looking in the bedroom windows of teenage girls. OK?"

"Yeah, OK."

"She couldn't sleep. She was sitting up in the kitchen, studying. Man, she's weird."

"She couldn't sleep? Why?"

Lorelai dropped her stick in frustration. "Because of Jess! Luke, _Jess_! Get it? She's worried about him and she can't sleep, even though she'd never admit that's why she's up. 'I felt like it was a good time to get some Physics reading in.' Who would ever believe that, even if this is Rory we're talking about?

"She has a boyfriend who loves her and is building her a goddamn car and she's going to Harvard and she's amazing and she's not sleeping because she's worried about the boy who _isn't_ her boyfriend, who walked her home in a town that has a radius of about two miles, and who we, Luke, are now poking around the lake for because you don't know where he is and it's after midnight and you think his dead body might possibly be at the bottom. Do you see what the problem is? What issues I might have with this, as Rory's mom?

"And this is my other reason for being out here looking for Jess with you, because whether or not we find him in one piece, I am probably going to murder him. With my bare hands. And I won't even care how messy it gets and that this coat is new." She took another breath like she was going to continue, but stopped short and huffed instead.

Luke was exhausted all of a sudden. He didn't even know how angry he was or if he was angry at all. Maybe all he was anymore was tired. This was always the way with Lorelai, taking a step forward with her, feeling like he could maybe slip into her heart through her chest, and then, just when he was letting himself believe he could do it now, finally, they would come to a crashing halt.

If what she said was true, and he had no reason to doubt her perception of Rory's feelings, they would always be at loggerheads over this. Lorelai in Rory's corner and Luke in Jess', because someone had to be. The stupid kid didn't even know how to be on his own side, was always proving other people right about him even though they both knew he could do better. He saw it now, looking at Lorelai as though she were miles away, and wondered why he hadn't noticed before how cagey she got whenever Jess was around or how closely she watched her daughter when they were in the diner.

He wondered if Jess could possibly conceive what Luke was now understanding he would sacrifice for his nephew. Luke knew, deep back in his heart, that he was always waiting for Lorelai. He kept her as a possibility, hoping that they would be in the right place at the same time, someday. But now he got it, with Lorelai opposite him thinking about Rory's heart and him worrying for Jess' very life, in more ways than one; he knew that he would choose Jess over Lorelai if he were ever forced.

Swinging his arms heavily, Luke tossed his branch to the ground. "Thanks for your help, Lorelai," he said. "You can go home if you'd like."

She closed her eyes. "No, Luke, I want to help you. I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "I can't make you go, but I can tell you I really, really don't want to deal with this right now. Can we please wait until we find Jess – safe – to have this argument?"

"There's no argument to have," she muttered.

"Whatever." He trudged off the bridge, brushing by her shoulder.

"Luke! We can keep looking. Come on, please, I'm sorry."

"He's not in the fucking lake, Lorelai," he sighed, and didn't bother to check her reaction at the language. At this point, he really didn't care.

She caught up to him, tucking her hands in her elbows. "Where to?"

"I'm going back to the diner. Do you want a thicker shirt?"

Lorelai sniffed. "Yes, please."

* * *

Luke was instantly uneasy upon entering the diner. He'd been coming in and out of it all night, and he thought it might just be a heightened sense of paranoia, especially considering how raw and how tired he was, but at this point, he was ready to follow every gut instinct he had. He was glad Lorelai offered to go ahead to Miss Patty's while he checked the apartment. They were still awkward and tense and he agreed to it readily just to get some space to breathe and think on his own, but now he realized that he hadn't even considered what he would have done if he and Lorelai found Jess actually in some sort of trouble. He didn't want to get Lorelai involved in it, too.

There wasn't anything obviously wrong on first inspection. Nothing was out of place, it was all clean and orderly and all the chairs were stacked on top of the tables. It was almost as if – and he kind of wanted to punch himself for thinking this – the _quiet_ was wrong. It was the nagging feeling he'd had since Jess ran out of the diner, pulling insistently at his intestines and heart. He could feel it coming out of his pores, oozing over his skin.

He was thinking about how strange his thoughts had become when heard a thump from above and knew it wasn't just Jess staggering into bed. He was at the curtain, taking the stairs so quickly he surprised himself when he was suddenly at the apartment door that wasn't fully closed even though he knew he shut it behind him when he last left. He pushed inside, feeling a grim calm, acutely aware that he was going to find something terrible but completely unable to understand what he was seeing when he did.

Just the apartment, as a room and by itself, was only lightly disturbed. The table was not where it should be and one of the chairs was knocked over. What was really wrong, of course, was the bodies on the floor by the foot of Luke's bed. Jess was on his back and someone was on top of him, clutching his face and leaning in so close it looked like he was whispering in his ear. Luke really couldn't make his mind comprehend the situation - in fact, it seemed like his brain had totally abandoned the whole processing information into understandable data thing - but his body moved anyway.

Luke just reacted, reached out and grabbed the man who was huddling over Jess making horrible choking noises like sobs. He got fistfuls of shirt and possibly skin and he pulled up and heaved, sending the man crashing into the couch. He heard Jess' cry of pain and felt a moment's indecision - deal with the guy or go to Jess - and he settled for holding the man by the neck and bashing his head into the floor, twice, and then Luke was kneeling by Jess' side, still not fully believing that what he was doing was real. It was like someone had gone into his mind and pulled out every fear he'd had over the last several hours and held them in front of his eyes. But no matter how many times he blinked, he saw the same nightmare.

Jess was trying to curl up, pressing his face between his biceps and tucking his knees below his elbows, and that's when Luke noticed that Jess' hands were strapped in place. To one of the posts of Luke's bed. With a fucking belt. His fingers twitched and it took extreme force of will to keep from stalking over and peeling the man's skull out of his face.

"Luke," Jess rasped, and that was all it took to prompt Luke into action, fumbling angrily with the belt. Jess pulled against it and Luke couldn't get his fingers to work properly. He saw the blood on Jess' forearms from where the edge of the belt had cut him and placed a steadying hand on his nephew's shoulder.

"Jess, please try to keep still just for a second. I don't want to hurt you."

Jess nodded and closed his eyes, taking deep gasping breaths, but his arms still trembled with tension. Luke bent down to work the belt loose, and of course it couldn't be simple. He hadn't just buckled it, he had worked it in weird loops and tied it and Luke's mind was going too quickly and too slowly to understand it.

"People keep saying that to me," Jess mumbled thickly.

Luke couldn't even think about that, didn't want to, but his furious fumbling at the leather finally paid off when Luke felt it get considerably looser. As soon as Jess felt the slackness, he strained again, working his wrists frantically. Luke tried to calm him, or explain to him that his movements were both hindering Luke's progress and hurting his already raw wrists, but Jess wasn't listening to anything. He pulled against the belt until veins stood out on his arms.

"God!" he screamed through clenched teeth, and Luke was just about to find a knife and slice through the goddamn belt when he worked it entirely free. Jess surged forward with so much force Luke thought he would hurt himself, but Luke stopped him with strong hands on his arms, gripping his shoulders. Jess gasped, eyes darting, body trembling, and for a moment Luke thought Jess might panic and attack him.

After a moment, though, Jess deflated, sinking into Luke's grasp and letting his forehead drop on Luke's shoulder. Luke rubbed his hands over Jess' arms in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "It's OK," he mumbled, nonsense reassurance he hardly understood himself. "You're fine, it's OK now." Jess' body shook, and for a moment Luke thought maybe he was crying and he had to keep reminding himself to focus on Jess, Jess, Jess, or he would run over to the man leaning against their couch and beat his skull in. Jess wasn't crying, though, as Luke realized when he heard laughter, quiet at first but turning deeper and louder until it was manic.

"It's OK," Jess wheezed into Luke's shirt, and all Luke could do was pat Jess' back and feel inexpressibly weak. Certainly he could kill the thing he pulled off his nephew; that would be a simple matter of a couple of seconds, if he wanted it to be quick, which he didn't. But he couldn't do a thing that mattered now, couldn't comfort Jess or take back what had happened or be there for him when he had actually needed it. Luke's heart squeezed and his grip on Jess tightened. Jess smelled like sweat and vomit and he felt so small in Luke's grasp that for a moment he wasn't sure if Jess was ten or seventeen. Jess lifted his head, his heaving laughter ebbing away, and he tried to shrug his shoulders out of Luke's hold.

"Jess, hey, what are you doing?"

"Luke," he muttered, trying to push against Luke's chest. "Luke, please." He was staring down at his lap and Luke looked down, only to turn his head away. He let go of Jess and rocked back, face turned to the ceiling. He heard Jess fumbling with his pants and tried to think of anything else, because if he thought, actually _thought_, about what was happening and had happened, he would lose himself. He would fly apart, all his cells exploding in different directions, and while there was so little he could offer Jess, the one thing he absolutely needed to do now was keep himself together.

For a second, Luke thought he imagined hearing the bell of the diner downstairs, but he saw Jess go completely still and suddenly realized: _Lorelai_. He whipped around and saw the guy – who, Luke realized like a punch to the sternum, was a man he recognized, although he had no idea from where – on his knees, watching the door. Luke reacted before thinking, tackling the man and pressing his shoulders into the ground.

"If you even fucking think about moving," Luke hissed, "I will tear your throat out."

He wasn't really listening to anything the man was saying but his lips were moving and it still sounded like he was crying, and for the second Luke spared him attention, he heard: "I'm sorry, he just wouldn't listen, I'm sorry."

"Luke!" Lorelai was yelling as she thumped up the stairs. "Luke?"

She came through the door, scanning the room, and her reaction was almost comic. She dropped her cell phone and staggered backwards, arms flying up in the air. "Christ!" she screamed, and then stood there staring at Luke with huge eyes.

"Lorelai, what are you doing?" He didn't mean to sound so angry.

She swallowed hard and looked at Jess, still huddled at the foot of the bed and shaking with light tremors. "I – oh Jesus – I remembered I was supposed to, um, get a shirt from you and I thought, 'oh hey it would be weird to change at Miss Patty's when Luke has a bathroom and – ugh," she breathed heavily, open-mouthed, "you didn't answer the phone when I called so – I – Luke, what the fuck?"

"Would you please just call the police?" It was taking all of Luke's restraint not to rip this man's throat out, even though he had gone perfectly still beneath his hands.

"Yes! Yes, absolutely of course I can do that, where the hell is my phone?" She dropped to her knees and grabbed it from under the kitchen table. Luke thought she did a pretty good job of conveying the message to the operator quickly and with remarkably few words, in a very un-Gilmore manner.

As soon as she hung up, she grabbed Jess' coat from where it still hung over a chair and wrapped it around his shoulders, kneeling beside him. Luke felt unspeakable, overwhelming gratitude for her as she pulled him close. Jess didn't acknowledge her but he turned into her body, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against her neck. His arms and hands and body trembled so violently Lorelai shook with him, and she pressed her face into his hair and rocked him.

* * *

His mother was crying and Ted was crying and the only sound Jess had ever heard was their mutual and competing grief. He was confused. He wasn't crying and hadn't cried, but they were. Ted was, and that was perhaps the strangest thing of all. What did _Ted_ have to cry about?

Jess sat on his bed, watching his door. It didn't lock from the inside, so he had meticulously piled his books in front of it. At first the stacks had been alphabetized by author, but some books were small and thick, and getting them to support hardcovers high up the pile was a trick he hadn't perfected. Even when he did manage the balance, he figured the lack of structural integrity was fundamentally counterproductive to his original object, which was barricading the door. So Jess arranged them by relative size and density and re-stacked the books, attempting to make each pile as close to the same height as possible. There was a good probability that if someone wanted to come in his room, it wouldn't take a lot of pushing to tumble his hard work and get through the door, but, so far, no one had tried.

He hadn't said a word. Since it happened, Jess hadn't spoken. As far as he cared, no one would know. He kept his voice and his body like a secret, shying away from hands and eyes and receding into quiet spaces no one would disturb. Frankly, he had no idea really what had happened, and he simply couldn't conceive of the words required to vocalize it even if he did. It was unreal, like a fever dream, and if Ted had told him he was just having nightmares, he would have gladly believed him. But Ted had cried then, too, had hugged him and buried his face in Jess' neck and wept, apologizing and leaving a wet trail of tears and mucus across his skin. Jess' body shook with Ted's sobs and with his own unconscious trembling. Two weeks later, and his fingers would not be still. That had added an extra element of difficulty to his book-stacking project.

It was Ted who told. Ted who had taken from Jess, had peeled away tiny dark pieces of him and greedily gathered them up, and then Ted who had given them away, shoved them into the light before he could even comprehend what he was missing. Jess hadn't been able to look at Ted since that day, so he hadn't seen the way Ted was watching him at dinner. Liz asked Jess, again, what was wrong and why he wasn't eating, and what conspiracy her boys were hatching together that made them so silent.

Jess hadn't moved, had registered a subdued surprise when he heard Ted garble, "Lizzie, oh God I'm so sorry I have something to tell you oh God," and the rest became incomprehensible noise. Jess slipped down from his chair, not looking up when his mother called his name, walked to his room, and shut the door behind him. As the knob quietly clicked into place he heard Liz crying.

That was last night, and now it was two in the morning. Jess felt strange, disconnected. It was like he had shifted into an alternate universe, parallel to his old life but a few degrees off center. He heard everything a little bit muffled, understood things a little bit slower than he used to. He didn't quite know how to use his body here. His arms and fingers felt too thick and his legs too weak, like he was a poorly constructed doll. Like bits of burlap sewn together and carelessly stuffed full of sawdust and ashes.

Sometime later - years, minutes - the apartment was quiet again. He blinked and it was dawn and his mother was crying softly somewhere outside of his door but still hadn't tried to get in. Suddenly he wanted to go to her, but realized with some embarrassment that he had also managed to barricade himself _in_. He stood behind the daunting fortress of books, stacked as high as his head, and flattened his palms against the raggedy bindings. He pushed to the sides and the books fell, cascading over his feet and ankles. He reached for the knob and pulled in spite of the obstructions and didn't care that pages were caught under the door and probably ripping.

When the opening was big enough for him, he pushed through it and into the living room. It was quiet but thrumming, pulsing with the echoes of screams and apologies and sobbing. Jess edged past the couch, afraid to touch it. It seeped out too many memories. The kitchen was empty, a parody of suspended animation. His untouched dinner was exactly as he had left it, silverware resting neatly on either side of the plate. He watched dust float lazily through a patch of sunlight.

Jess crept back into the living room, approaching the couch cautiously. His fingers curled over the back, and as he peered over he was sure he would see Ted there, Ted like a nightmare waiting for him. Waiting like nothing had happened, lounging sloppily over the side and smiling in the strange sad way he had.

He heard soft breathing and for a moment he thought it _was _Ted and his heart leapt, but it was just Liz, curled on her side, sleeping. She looked very old in the pale morning light, and for once Jess didn't care that she stank like liquor. He crawled over the arm of the couch onto her legs and squashed himself awkwardly against her chest, ignoring the fact that the couch was narrow and he was half falling off the edge. He pulled her arm over his shoulders and tucked his hands under her ribs. He pressed his face to her throat and cried.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes**: This is so long. Also, I tried to do a little research for the flashback scene, but I got all confused about fishing seasons and when things are in season, so we're just going to pretend that there's a magical camping/fishing ground in Connecticut where you can go bass fishing in June and see Horned Grebes looking like crazy ducks. It's three hours west of the magical town Stars Hollow. You'd love it there.**  
Seriously, though**: Previous notes about this being a sad, dark fic still apply. I swear that it's going to get better eventually, but right now we're bogged down with hospital rooms, the fallout of horrific events, and sad flashbacks.**  
And**: Huge, huge thank you to everyone who's left feedback or put this story on your alert list. Your encouragement and compliments give me greater faith in my writing than I probably deserve, and it just makes the whole experience exciting and incredibly satisfying. Thank you all, and special thanks forever to Polly.

* * *

There were fifty tiles in the ceiling of the waiting room. Five tiles per row, ten rows. Of course, the last row was cut off so only about three-quarters of the tiles showed, which made it technically, oh, forty eight and three-quarters. The dots on the tiles were to small to count without going cross-eyed, but that didn't stop Luke from trying.

He was sitting beside Lorelai in an otherwise unoccupied room in the hospital, waiting to see Jess or hear something about him. Neither one of them was speaking, although every now and then they would say an awkward sentence or two and trail off. He still couldn't process enough of what had happened that night to actually talk about it, and it seemed like Lorelai was in the same position.

He kept seeing the flashing emergency lights in his vision, how they came through the window and skipped over the walls of the apartment. The whole thing replayed on an endless loop in his mind, no matter how hard he tried to think of something else. The police officers all over the diner, the paramedic who leaned over Jess and shone lights in his eyes and tried to get him to speak. How Jess had finally seemed to see the man, only to convulse forward and throw up in his lap.

Luke and Lorelai had followed the ambulance to the hospital in his truck. Lorelai drove. Luke had gotten in the driver's seat, put the keys in the ignition, and then stopped, dropping his hand into his lap. Lorelai watched him sit there, staring at the dash, and walked over to his door. She coaxed him from the truck and guided him to the passenger side.

"I'm OK," Luke told her.

"I know," she replied, and opened the door for him. He got in without protest. He wanted to thank her for driving, even though she clearly wasn't comfortable in his car, but his jaw felt heavy and the thought of working it to speak seemed a tremendous effort. He hoped she knew how grateful he was for her presence, because he was sure it was something he could would never be able to properly convey. He was very glad that he had the wherewithal to get himself out of the truck by the time they got to the hospital. He couldn't imagine how embarrassing it would be if Lorelai had to open his door for him again.

They hadn't seen Jess since then, having been escorted to this tiny, bleak waiting room with no view of the outside and no clock as far as Luke could tell. There was a box of tissues on every table. It made Luke uncomfortable, those handy reminders of grief. He knew Jess wasn't in critical condition but he couldn't help picturing other families sitting in these exact same seats, fumbling for tissues and sobbing.

He turned his attention to the television in the corner, on but muted, on what appeared to be an endless update on the weather. He considered asking Lorelai if she wanted to change the channel, but the idea of actually watching television was so ridiculous he couldn't bring himself to say the words. He just wanted to have something to do. Luke was opening his mouth to talk, although he wasn't sure what he was about to say, when a doctor approached. Lorelai straightened in her chair, poised and attentive.

"Mr. and Mrs. Mariano?"

"Yes?" she asked, before Luke could even open his mouth. He looked at her sideways and was about to tell her that this was really not the time to be cute, but she didn't seem to even realize what she'd just said. She was just talking without thinking, which Luke could sympathize with, even though he seemed to have something of the opposite problem.

"Ah," she cut in before the doctor could say anything. She looked nervously over at Luke and waved her hands in the air. "I mean. He is. Jess' guardian. I'm not Mrs. Mariano – neither one of us is, actually, especially not him, for obvious reasons, and I'm gonna get some coffee, OK?" She stood, grabbing her cell phone off the table. "Luke?"

"No," he muttered. "Thanks."

She flashed the briefest of smiles at them before mouthing "OK" and walking briskly away. Luke didn't mind, really. He liked that Lorelai was still being Lorelai - babbling and always on the lookout for coffee. It helped keep him anchored to reality. On principle, he wouldn't have cared if she'd stayed for the doctor's update, either, especially since he knew she was just worried, but he doubted Jess would want Lorelai to overhear the information Luke was about to receive. Luke was pretty sure _he_ didn't want to hear it.

He sighed, indicating with his chin that the doctor could proceed.

There wasn't anything definite to hear yet, and Luke had a hard time following what the guy was saying. He understood that they suspected Jess had a concussion and wanted to keep him for observation. The doctor mentioned a couple of other procedures, but Luke missed most of what he said after "rape kit." He nodded mutely through the rest of the man's speech, bewildered.

After the doctor left, Luke leaned forward, resting his face in his hands and focusing on breathing. It was unreal; it had to be. Things like this didn't happen, they hadn't happened to his nephew in Luke's apartment while he was less than a mile away.

Luke felt bile rising in his throat as he thought of the moment he'd realized how he recognized Jess' attacker. He had been pressing his hands on the man's shoulders, holding him to the floor and waiting for the police to arrive, when a vague memory floated to the front of his mind. There was a picture, somewhere, that he still had in the apartment, of a wedding on a fall day. _Ted_, he thought, surprised that he even remembered the man's name. _Liz's third husband_. He almost lost it then, thinking but not thinking of the implication there, if this thing had been in Jess' life when Jess was eleven. Luke hadn't been aware that he was leaning all of his weight onto his arms, crushing Ted, until Lorelai called his name and he saw that the man was choking for air. For maybe three seconds, Luke had considered how much trouble it would take to kill him then, and if he could get away with a diminished capacity defense before releasing some of the pressure.

That was a lie, though, three seconds. He had wanted to do it for longer than that, he kept thinking about it even until the police came and had to physically pull him off Ted. He still wanted to, and a small part of him regretted that he hadn't while he had the chance, the heat of the moment.

He didn't know how long he sat like that, breathing in and out, before he heard Lorelai's soft footsteps approach. He looked up and she nodded her head in greeting.

"Coffee!" she announced, holding up the cup in her hand. "And I know you won't drink coffee, but I thought you needed – something. So I got you -" she paused dramatically and lifted her other hand, holding an identical paper cup.

Luke frowned at her, confused. "Coffee?"

"Tea! I hear that it's good for you and has – leaves and grass and trees in it and – antioxidants." He took the cup from her as she spoke.

"Thanks."

"Oh, no. No problem. I'm just lucky there happened to be cash in the back pocket of these pants or I would have been screwed. Never go anywhere without a purse, Luke."

He nodded and she sat next to him again, close enough that their legs were almost touching. Luke wasn't sure if the proximity was for his comfort or hers. Lorelai was definitely shaken, and from the haunted look in her eyes, her restlessness and distractedness, she was feeling some of the same things he was.

She took a sip of her coffee and grimaced. "Ew. If this is any indication, your tea is terrible."

"Thanks anyway."

"Yeah."

He tapped his thumbs against the lid of his cup, wondering how long it had been since the doctor left and when he'd be able to see Jess. Glad to have something to do apart from stare into space and make stilted conversation, he took a drink. He pulled his lips away from his teeth and sighed.

"This tastes like piss."

Lorelai nodded emphatically.

"Who'd you call?"

"Hmm?"

"You took your phone with you earlier. When you went to get coffee. I thought maybe you called someone. I don't know."

"Oh. Yeah. I, uh, called Rory." She swallowed and looked away.

He let out a soft "huh" sound. "What'd you say?"

"Well, she got all high-pitched and chirpy as soon as I said 'at the hospital' and she wouldn't let me get a word in for a while, but eventually I let her know that there was a break-in at the diner and Jess was hurt but not fatally and that I didn't know when I'd be home."

"Did she sound OK?" Luke wasn't usually big on talking just for the sake of saying things, but as long as he was speaking, he wasn't counting the seconds since the last time he'd checked the time or thinking about what Jess was going through or what he had gone through. At some point, he would have to address all of that, but, for now, he allowed himself a reprieve.

"Yes, Luke, she's fine." Lorelai put a hand on his thigh and rubbed her fingertips on the denim lightly. He dropped his head to watch. She must have taken his look as disapproval, because she quickly drew her hand back to her own lap.

"What did the doctor say?" she asked, her voice unusually quivery.

"A lot of stuff, but not much made sense to me. They're running some tests. I think they said he has a concussion. Maybe. And that the cuts on his arms look worse than they are."

"They looked pretty bad."

"And they're just gonna… do a thorough examination to make sure they haven't missed anything else." He gestured lamely with his hands.

Lorelai's mouth, already grim, thinned further. He'd seen the expression on her face when Luke finally let Ted go. The police officers had pulled him to his feet and Lorelai's eyes had lingered on Ted's unzipped fly. She'd looked like she was going to vomit, and he was pretty sure the only thing that kept her from it was the fact that she had still been supporting Jess. And he had been clinging to her, fingers twined tightly into her shirt.

Looking at her now, he could still see where Jess's hands had been. The fabric was wrinkled and stretched and there were little smears of blood, grotesquely red-brown against the white.

"I think he ruined your shirt."

"That's fine." Lorelai's voice was firm. "I have a lot of shirts."

Luke rolled his eyes to the ceiling. He hated this. He hated the fucking waiting room and he hated not knowing what was happening or even what time of day it was and he hated that there was absolutely nothing for him to do except sit like an idiot and say every stupid thing that entered his mind. His skin felt grimy, lightly crusted with a night's worth of searching, anxiety, and horror. He would feel so much better if he could take a shower, or tear his flesh off with his fingernails.

A pretty, dark-haired nurse leaned around the corner. "Mr. Danes?"

Luke stood. "Yes. Me. I'm him."

She stepped forward and Lorelai stood, too, her fingers lightly gripping Luke's elbow. He wondered if she was aware of how much she sought physical contact for comfort.

"Hi, I'm Priscilla. I can take you to see Jess now if you'd like."

"Yes, absolutely. Is he – he's all right?"

Priscilla smiled and glanced at Lorelai, who tugged on Luke's sleeve. "Why don't you go on ahead?" she offered. "I'll hang out here for a little bit and check in on you later."

Luke nodded, although he didn't like the idea of having to face Jess alone. He was sure that he was going to fall apart at any moment, but having Lorelai near helped calm him. Apart from that, he was irrationally afraid that Jess would be angry with him, would hate him, would accuse Luke of failing him. He _had _failed Jess, but he didn't think he could hold up under Jess' incrimination. Not yet.

He followed Priscilla, rubbing his sweating hands against his jeans. "We're still going to keep him for a while," she said, "just to make sure there's nothing more wrong than we think. He's disoriented and seems confused about certain information, but that might not necessarily be related to a head injury." She stopped at the end of the hallway and turned to Luke.

"So far, he's exhibiting a lot of reluctance about the rape kit." The world lurched again at those words and Luke had to put out a hand to steady himself. "The last thing we want to do is pressure him into something that would feel like another violation, but maybe you could just discuss it with him. We don't have to report it to the police, but if he does decide to press charges, it's invaluable. Frankly, the guy'll probably get away without repercussion if we don't have physical evidence."

Luke swallowed hard and nodded, still not following everything she was saying. Not report it? That was insane. Of course they would report it.

He was still reeling when Priscilla showed him to Jess' door. "He's sensitive to the light, so we're keeping most of them off. Just let us know if you need anything." She touched his arm lightly and walked away.

Jess looked terrible, which Luke supposed was what he expected, although he never thought Jess could look so frail. He sat up in his bed, head bowed, hands unmoving on either side of his lap. Even in the dim light, Luke saw bruises forming on his face, disturbing little circles the size of fingertips spanning his jawline. The circles under his eyes set the pallor of his skin into sharp relief.

What was most unsettling, though, were the bandages on Jess' wrists. Luke knew what they were for; he had tugged the belt away from Jess' skin and seen the cuts when they were fresh. At the time, they were horrifying, they had made him want to shatter windows with Ted's face, but now they were sinister. Combined with the blank, haunted look in Jess' bruised eyes and under the dim hospital lighting, swaddled in pristine gauze, the wounds looked to Luke like foreshadowing, like horrible things yet to come, like bloody bathwater.

Luke sat beside him, and so far, Jess hadn't acknowledged his presence. "You look awful," Luke blurted.

Jess lifted his eyes without moving his head. "Really. Because I feel super."

Luke spread his hands helplessly. "I'm sorry. I have no idea what I'm saying."

"Seriously, find me a marathon to run." The biting words were familiar, but the tone was flat.

"Jess, stop. I'm sorry. Please stop it."

Jess ducked his head and shifted his shoulders in a half-shrug. He picked at the bandage on his wrist and Luke felt the heavy weight of dread hit him in the stomach again. As though reading his thoughts, Jess said, "People are gonna think I tried to commit suicide."

Luke shook his head, although he wasn't sure what he was denying. People might very well say that. He could see it in his head, families clustering at tables in the diner, staring and stage-whispering and clucking their tongues. "They won't," he said anyway.

Jess kept going like he didn't hear Luke. "I wouldn't want them to get the wrong idea about the sort of freak I am. Sad, suicidal, angry teenager. It's just so cliché."

"You're not a freak," Luke said softly, but, again, Jess didn't seem to notice that he was talking. He just stared at his thumbs and twiddled them occasionally.

Again – and Luke wondered if there was something wrong with him that made his speech center bypass his brain and go straight to his mouth, the way he kept speaking without knowing what he was about to say – Luke blurted, "Priscilla said you don't want to do the rape kit. Thing." That was sort of funny, calling the nurse by her first name as though they were all old friends.

Jess' eyes shot up to Luke's, but Luke was looking at the carpet. He didn't know how to follow that up.

"That's my business," Jess said. He sounded like he was trying to be firm, angry, but his voice was very small, very young.

Luke looked up again, but now Jess was staring at his lap. He took a deep breath, determined on this point. "It's mine, too. The nurse said Ted," and here Jess shuddered, "probably won't get a conviction without physical evidence. I know you don't want that, but even if you tell me you don't care, I do. If I ever see that man again, I will kill him. If I find out he isn't getting jail time, I'm going to hunt him down and murder him. Now, I don't really mind doing that, but I'd prefer not to spend the rest of my life in prison for that pile of shit."

Jess turned his head away. For the longest time, Luke thought he was going to say something, to try to argue the point with Luke, but he was simply quiet, unmoving except for the smallest tics in his fingers and jaw. Eventually, he leaned back and scratched absently at the dried bile on his cheek. "I puked on him."

Luke snorted. "Good." He met Jess' eyes for the first time since coming in the room, and a corner of Jess' mouth pulled up in a grimace-smile.

"I did the first time, too. Pretty weird, the things that'll set off your gag reflex."

Luke couldn't breathe. _The first time_. His head swam and spots jumped in front of his eyes and he wondered blearily if this was what fainting felt like.

Of course he figured out it was possible, even probable, but he'd been able to put it together without actually having to confront the reality of it. His mind just kept sliding past the inevitable solution to the equation until Jess forced him to face it. His eyes stung and he rested his forehead in his hands, waiting for his mind to stop spinning.

He hadn't known, he told himself. There was no way he could have known, no way he could have done anything because he hadn't been there and no one expected him to be. He had no idea. How many years of Jess' life did he know nothing about? How many times had Jess been hurt or scared and had no one? Luke was suffocating. It was as though the floor had dropped away to reveal the vacuum of space, a huge world Luke hadn't known was there but was sucking him in.

There was a gentle tapping on the doorframe and Luke turned to see Lorelai, looking anxious. She smiled at Luke and waved awkwardly at Jess.

"Hey, Jess. I just wanted to check in. Make sure you're all right."

Jess crossed his arms over his abdomen, staring at his knees. "Great," he croaked. He rolled his eyes and muttered "sorry" a moment later.

Lorelai shook her head, though Jess didn't see it. "Did you guys need anything? At all? I'll get anything you need, you know. A nurse, a doctor, coffee that tastes like piss. I could probably break into a supply closet and steal you more pillows." She hovered in the doorway, clenching and unclenching her hands.

Luke shook his head. He'd offer to let her come in the room, but he didn't think Jess would be as thankful for the intrusion as he was. "That's a nice offer, but I'm set."

"Are you sure? I thought you might want to try to get some sleep in here, and the chairs don't look super comfortable."

Luke shifted, running his hands along the armrests of his chair. "I hadn't thought about sleeping," he admitted. "But I don't think I'm going to."

She nodded, a little frantically. "Jess?"

He wouldn't meet her eyes. She looked back to Luke and mouthed "sorry." He shook his head.

"OK, well, maybe I'll hunt some down for myself, then. I should be in the waiting room if you need me for anything." She started to go when Jess spoke.

"Lorelai, wait."

She turned so quickly she almost fell over. "Yes?"

Jess glanced nervously between her and the floor. His eyes darted over to Luke once or twice but he didn't speak, and Luke got the impression that maybe he didn't want him there for whatever he was going to ask Lorelai. Luke didn't want to go, though, and he was having so much trouble understanding everything around him that he didn't want to assume anything and leave the two of them alone when it might be the last thing Jess wanted.

Lorelai cautiously stepped closer to the bed. Jess looked at her face but quickly dropped his gaze to his feet.

"Jess?" she prompted softly. "Sweetie, if you need anything, anything in the world, all you need to do is ask me."

His jaw clenched. Luke really believed he wouldn't say anything and that Lorelai would relentlessly offer her assistance to his mute nephew until a doctor or a nurse or the apocalypse came and spared them all.

Finally, between gritted teeth, Jess said, "Please don't tell."

Lorelai jumped like someone had given her an electrical shock. Jess glanced at her again and grabbed handfuls of bed sheets.

"Have you told anyone?" Luke could barely hear him.

"No," she breathed. "I haven't told anyone, and of course I won't. I won't."

Jess sighed heavily and closed his eyes. "Anyone," he repeated. "Don't tell _anyone_."

Lorelai swallowed hard. "Jess, I promise you. I won't tell anybody." Her voice was quiet and serious, and it dawned on Luke at last that both of them were talking about Rory. He felt suddenly like he was trespassing on their conversation.

Jess nodded and unclenched his hands, rubbing his palms against his thighs. "Thank you," he said thickly, biting his lip, and it looked to Luke like he was only just keeping his emotions in check.

Lorelai saw it too. She was at his side in a moment, putting her arms around him in a gesture so unexpected even Luke startled. Jess' breathing hitched and Lorelai pressed a kiss to his temple.

"_Lorelai_." Jess' tone was warning, pleading. She gave his shoulders one last, quick squeeze and let go. She didn't look at Luke as she walked out the door.

As soon as she was gone, Jess pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and took deep, uneven breaths. Luke stood, unsure whether his comfort would be welcome, but needing to give it more than he cared if Jess would accept it. He put a hand on Jess' back and Jess gave a little jump.

He pulled his knees up to his chest and rubbed fiercely at the bridge of his nose. He made a couple of frustrated noises as he struggled to regulate his breathing in gasps that shook with the fine tremors running through his body. Luke saw tears on his cheeks and his fingers pulled together, grabbing a fistful of Jess' hospital gown. He wanted to hold him so badly, but he didn't know how.

Jess turned to Luke, eyes red and wet and blinking furiously. "Luke," he gasped. "Could you go?"

"What?" He hadn't considered that Jess wouldn't want him to stay. It was unbearable in Jess' hospital room and Luke hated himself for his inability to be strong enough for Jess, to be the one who could take the weight of his burdens onto his shoulders and be able to support Jess as well. As it was, he was barely holding himself together and he kept wishing someone would help him. Some small part of him was relieved at the opportunity for escape Jess was offering.

Jess put his elbows on his knees and pressed his face into his hands. "Could you get – get a doctor or something please. I need to talk to a doctor. I need you to go."

He rubbed gentle circles on Jess' back and considered telling him "no" for a moment. Jess rocked forward, pulling away from Luke's touch.

"Sure," he said quietly, drawing his hand back to his side.

* * *

Luke only met Ted the one time. It was in early summer of the year he and Rachel were officially ending, although they had a difficult time actually ending. They never said the words to each other: "it's over," but every time she left, Luke assumed she wasn't coming back. She would show up unannounced throughout the winter of the next year and seemed content to expect Luke to be there, at the diner, whenever she missed him too much. They carried on like that until Luke dug up his resolve and asked her only to come back when she knew she was going to stay, and he wouldn't see her again for years.

But they were still together that June, although she was on another trip, sending him postcards that were pictures she developed herself and scribbled messages on the back of, things like _This takes my breath away, but it's not beautiful without you here_ or _Did I tell you I adore you before I left? I adore you. And I think I left my favorite shirt behind_ or just signed with her name. Reading the spidery scratch of her handwriting from so far away made him ache.

So he was lonely and restless when Liz called him out of the blue. He hadn't heard from her in a while and was certain she would need a favor, that something was wrong, but she sounded healthy and chipper. In the middle of something Luke was saying, she cut in with, "Hey Luke, do you wanna take Jess for about a week? Camping? He's got nothing to do this break and I think he'd like to see you."

Luke was mildly flattered at that, although he wondered what the kid could possibly find appealing about hanging out with his uncle in a small town, especially now that he was getting older. It used to be so easy to entertain Jess, just sit him in front of the television and buy some of those single-serving sugary cereals and give him a sleeping bag on the floor and he was delighted. He didn't see his nephew very often, but the last time they were together, Luke was already feeling the awkward distance of adolescence coming between them.

He agreed, though, glad himself for the excuse to take a vacation. He was increasingly edgy, and it was getting to the point where his gruffness was no longer charming to anyone, and his patrons and staff were generally steering clear of him. He couldn't clearly remember the last time he'd seen Jess in person, didn't even really know if the kid enjoyed camping or fishing. He had no idea when he'd get a chance to do it in New York.

Liz told him to expect Jess the following Saturday around noon, and while Luke thought it was strange that Liz would drive all the way out to Stars Hollow just to drop Jess off, he was glad she didn't even suggest that Luke come to New York to pick him up. He hated driving into the city.

Luke was mostly packed and organizing some last details in the diner when Jess arrived, entering the diner with a nervous look around at the people who were all suddenly looking at him, and then at Luke, and then back at him. He ducked his head and went straight for the counter. Luke scanned the street for Liz's car, but didn't see it anywhere. Maybe she'd gotten a new one.

"Hey, Jess."

"Hey, Uncle Luke."

Luke sighed. He wasn't sure why Jess always called him "Uncle Luke," as though he knew fifty guys named Luke and had to differentiate between them somehow. He carried a bag half his own size slung over one shoulder and held a rolled-up paperback in his curled fingers.

"Where's your mom?"

Jess' eyes narrowed and he glanced around in confusion. "New York?"

"What?"

"Where we live?"

Luke and Jess stared at each other.

"How did you get here?"

"I took the bus." Luke gaped. "Uncle Luke, is everything OK?"

Luke pressed his hands against his temples. "She sent you on a bus? Alone. From New York."

Jess paused uncertainly. "Yes."

Luke slammed a hand against the counter and Jess took a step back, readjusting his grip on his bag. "I can't believe her! I thought when she said you'd be here around noon, she'd be dropping you off!" He rubbed his chin angrily. "I could have at least met you at the bus stop if I'd have known."

"But it's just down the street."

"But you're nine!"

"I'm _ten_. Eleven in two months."

Luke balked. "You're ten?"

"Yes."

"You're so small."

Jess' face darkened, his brows drawing a straight line over his eyes. He huffed and turned his head away.

"Either way, she shouldn't have done that. I'm calling your mom."

Jess looked at him, alarmed. "Why?"

"She can't do stuff like this! It's so irresponsible. And it's not even just her being irresponsible with her own safety, it's yours!" As he spoke, Luke grabbed the phone from its cradle and started to dial.

"I'm fine, though. You don't have to call her."

Luke just shot Jess a stern look, which didn't seem to faze the kid much. He cursed his sister under his breath while the phone rang. As he was preparing to leave an angry message on her answering machine, she picked up.

"Hello!" Her voice was breezy and carefree, which made Luke angrier. For all she knew or cared, he could have been the police calling to say they found Jess' body in a ditch somewhere because she stuck him unattended on public transportation.

"Liz," he intoned, with as much foreboding as he could summon.

"Luke! Oh, great, hi, Luke! Is Jess there?"

"Yes, Jess is here, and he's in one piece, no thanks to you."

"What?"

"You just put him on a bus, Liz! By himself!"

She snorted. "Oh, shpfff, it's fine! He's done it before!"

Luke's jaw worked. "That doesn't prove anything except that your mothering skills have been questionable for a _while_, instead of since just recently."

Liz actually laughed at him. "What do you know about it?" She didn't sound even a little bit defensive, and it was really pissing Luke off. "And he got there, didn't he? He's a smart kid."

"Smart doesn't have anything to do with it; he's ten!" Luke thought he heard Jess grumble at that, but he ignored it.

"Luke, it's done. What's the point of getting angry about it? And, hey, thanks again for agreeing to take him camping. Ted and I really appreciate getting some time to ourselves."

That stopped Luke entirely. "Ted? Who's Ted?"

"Oh, he's my fella." He winced at the wistful tone. "Haven't I mentioned him before?"

"No, Liz, you haven't."

"He's just amazing. I think you'd really like him! You should meet him sometime." Right. _Amazing, incredible, so different this time, you two would be such great friends_. By Liz's description, this guy sounded exactly like every other guy she'd been with.

"Well, I'll get to this weekend, because I'm driving Jess back to New York."

"Why? His ticket's round-trip."

Luke knew that smashing the phone against his forehead wouldn't help the situation, but it was still tempting. "I'm sorry you wasted your money, but I am driving him back home, and that's final."

"All right, if you're sure. Have a great time camping! Oh, and thanks again! See you Sunday!" She hung up before he could fit in another word. He sighed and glared at the phone for a moment before hanging it back up.

He turned to Jess, who was still standing in front of the counter, eyeing his surroundings warily. Maybe half of the diner's patrons were openly watching him, and he shifted uncomfortably, hunching his shoulders. Luke sighed. Getting on a bus to take a long trip by himself didn't seem to bother the kid at all, but he looked ready to bolt when confronted with the notice of strangers.

"Jess," Luke prompted gently. "Do you want to take your stuff upstairs?"

"Yes," was the quick reply. Luke led the way, pulling back the curtain for Jess, who darted up the stairs after giving his uncle another nervous look.

The apartment looked smaller with all their camping gear in a pile in the middle of the floor. Jess dropped his one bag beside it and approached one of the tackle boxes curiously.

"Ever been camping before?"

"No."

"Great! It'll be fun." Jess nodded unenthusiastically. "I've just got to get a couple more things wrapped up downstairs before we go. Shouldn't take very long. So you can just… hang out up here if you want. I've got a TV." Luke pointed to it helpfully, as though Jess couldn't see it for himself or sat on that same couch and watched it before.

"Thanks."

Luke nodded. He scanned the apartment quickly for anything Jess might get into that he wasn't supposed to, feeling a mix of anxiety and sadness when he saw Rachel's postcards on the fridge door. He didn't know why thinking of her made him uneasy of late. They called at least every other day and they were in love and he couldn't picture himself with anyone else, even with her in her vast spaces and him in his one-room apartment. Maybe he just missed her. Getting away from the diner, from phones, would be a good thing.

The camping and fishing grounds were a three-hour drive away. It had never seemed longer to Luke than that trip with Jess, who tapped his fingers against his knees and watched the scenery pass by but offered no conversation. Luke tried to chat, but he was very bad at small talk and he gladly let the truck descend into silence when Jess shrugged and gave monosyllabic responses to Luke's questions. It was pretty amazing that Jess was Liz's son. It didn't seem like he'd inherited any of her looks or personality, and Luke liked to think that was a good thing.

They were quiet for most of the journey through unloading the truck and all the way to setting up the gear at the bank of the lake. Jess disinterestedly watched Luke's demonstration of the fishing pole and how to cast the line. They sat side-by-side in little uncomfortable chairs, and, after maybe an hour of uncomfortable quiet, Luke tried to get Jess to talk again.

"So. How's your mom?"

Jess' mouth quirked. "She's good."

"That's good. So you're all good?"

"Yes."

"So, she's got a new boyfriend, huh?"

Jess eyed Luke suspiciously. "Yes."

"He's an OK guy?"

He shrugged. "Sure, he's fine."

"He's not. I don't know. Weird." Luke wasn't sure how to ask Jess if his mother's boyfriend was an alcoholic asshole. Not that there was much Luke could do about it if Jess said yes.

"Weird? Weird how? Weird like these questions are weird?"

That took Luke off guard. Jess spoke so little that Luke assumed he just didn't have anything to say. It didn't even occur to him that Jess might be growing up to be a wiseass.

"No, weird, like…. Does he treat you guys OK? Does he have a job, does he have suspicious friends with scars and eye patches?"

Jess looked horrified. "Eye patches?" Luke scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. Jess was only ten. It wasn't fair that he could get the upper hand in conversations with so little effort. "Ted's fine," Jess said. "He's got a job, and, as far as I know, he isn't friends with any pirates."

"So he's a great guy. He's wonderful, he's charming, he's different. 'The one.'" Luke wasn't quite sure why he was being so aggressive about this with Jess. It wasn't as though Jess picked his mother's boyfriends, but he was still irritated with her and wanted someone to validate his feelings about how consistently and frequently she made terrible decisions. Now that he'd brought her up, he kept thinking about her blithe disregard for Jess' safety and Luke's concern.

Jess shrugged awkwardly. "I dunno," he mumbled. "Mom likes him a lot." Luke snorted and Jess shot him an aggravated glance. "He remembers how old I am and everything."

"Hey! I remember how old you are." It was Jess' turn to scoff. "I was just confused earlier because I was angry at your mom and you are - are deceptively short." It was supposed to be an excuse, something better than actually forgetting how old his nephew was, but Luke knew he'd said the wrong thing as soon as it was out of his mouth.

Jess' expression was thunderous. He turned away from Luke, set down his fishing pole, and dug under his seat for his bag. He pulled out a paperback – Luke thought it was different from the one he'd been reading on the ride here, but he couldn't be sure – and huddled over it, flipping it open. The gesture and the body language were clear. He was angry with Luke and he was going to sulk.

After that, Luke couldn't think of much to say to Jess, and Jess was clearly not inclined to conversation. He felt a little bad for coming down so hard on Liz and her new boyfriend to Jess – the kid didn't need to hear about it, not from him, and not when he had to live with those whackjobs. Luke really needed to work on his tact. He just wasn't used to holding in his opinions if he felt them strongly, and especially if those opinions were about his sister.

Every now and then, he'd try to strike up a conversation that would inevitably fall flat after a couple of sentences. Once, he tapped Jess' knee and pointed out to the water. "Look, Jess, a Horned Grebe."

Jess looked up from his book to Luke and then to the bird. His expression didn't register any surprise or interest. "It looks like an insane duck," he said flatly.

Luke nodded. "It's a grebe."

Jess lifted his eyebrows and looked back at his uncle. "Cool," he said after a long moment. "Thanks." He went back to his book immediately.

He let himself relax and focus on fishing. It was a beautiful, calm day, and watching the sunlight play on the water brought Luke a sense of peace he rarely felt. If Jess was happy reading his book and Luke was happy fishing, even if they weren't interacting with each other, who was he to complain?

Jess remained remote until Luke caught his first fish – a bass, huge, the length of Jess' arm. The kid's eyes bugged, and he jerked away from it as it flapped desperately in Luke's grasp.

"Shit!" he yelled, and Luke was torn between amusement at his shock and concern at his language. He decided to ignore it in favor of being impressive; he wrestled the fish into relative submission and held it out for Jess to touch. Jess reached tentative fingers to it, his wide eyes fixed on its gills, opening and closing in futile gasps. Luke noted with pride that Jess' book was forgotten, open at his feet where he dropped it.

They threw it back because it was too big, but after that, Jess paid more attention to his uncle and to the curious ripples in the water. He didn't pick up his own fishing pole again that day, although he did perk up any time Luke reeled something in. Luke was eventually successful, catching three usable fish for their dinner.

The best part of their trip was when Luke showed Jess how to clean a fish. He was still and attentive, his mouth set and gaze focused on Luke's hands. He didn't even react when Luke scooped the fish's guts out.

"You want to try?" he offered, holding out the knife and another fish. Jess looked up at him, obviously a little surprised, but he agreed readily. Luke sat back and watched, not really concerned about whether Jess would mangle it. The fish Luke already cleaned was plenty of food for the two of them for that night. Jess was careful, though, meticulous in a way that impressed Luke. When he was done, he frowned at the fillet he made. It was far from perfect, but it was a lot better than Luke expected.

"I missed a lot of meat," Jess said, poking at it sullenly.

Luke ran a finger over it. "But you got out almost all of the bones. You did a really good job."

Jess' eyebrows went up minutely and Luke thought he saw a whisper of a smile. "It's OK," he conceded.

For the rest of the trip, they didn't achieve the same level of comfort as they had during that lesson. Jess fished very little, but seemed content to just sit on the bank beside Luke and read. Luke thought at first the books were just a convenient way of avoiding conversation with him, but after observing Jess for a while, he realized Jess was fully absorbed in the activity. He had the same look of immersed attention while he read as he had when he'd watched Luke clean and fillet the fish. Liz never mentioned that Jess was such a bookworm. Of course, Liz didn't offer up a lot of important information about her son.

The drive back to New York wasn't terrible, at least not in terms of Jess' attitude. He didn't talk much, but he seemed much more relaxed around Luke, less defensive. He even volunteered to take a lot of the camping equipment back up to the apartment and, as he was climbing into Luke's truck, thanked him for driving him back home.

The drive itself, as in, the physical act of driving to New York, was terrible. Luke hated the crazy aggressive drivers and the stupid streets and the angry pedestrians. Jess had to help him navigate toward the end of the journey, especially since Liz had moved to a new apartment in the last few months and Luke was completely unfamiliar with the area.

It was actually much nicer than Luke was expecting, and the apartment building itself, while certainly not new, was clean and secure. Jess opened the door for them and insisted on carrying his own bag. Luke smiled at the kid's insistence on being self-sufficient and marveled at how much his mood had improved even since the previous day. He still didn't talk much, but he smiled a lot and even joked around a bit.

"This was fun," Luke said, even though he wasn't convinced it had been, not completely. "Maybe we could do it again for a weekend or something."

"Sure," Jess replied, not meeting his eyes.

The apartment was very clean, too, which went against Luke's memory of the way Liz kept her house. What was really unexpected, though, was the man standing in the kitchen, leaning heavily against the counter and drinking a cup of coffee. His face lit up when he saw Luke and Jess.

"Jess!" he called, like he was announcing the arrival of a celebrity. "It's been so long I forgot what you looked like."

"Not long enough for me to forget your ugly face," Jess retorted, and the man, who Luke had to assume was Ted, laughed easily.

"Catch anything?"

"Nope."

Ted grinned into his cup. "Excellent." He held out his hand and Jess high-fived it as he walked by. Ted watched him until he was in his bedroom and then turned back to Luke.

"How about you?"

"Huh?" Luke had been so distracted trying to scrutinize this Ted guy that he forgot the conversation.

Ted's lip quirked. "Catch anything?"

"Yeah," Luke replied.

Ted watched him expectantly, clearly waiting for Luke to continue with his story, but Luke was in no mood to make small talk with his sister's latest – and very likely transient – boyfriend. As it became obvious that Luke wasn't going to talk, Ted glanced away uncomfortably and his shoulders drew together.

He was tall – probably a couple of inches taller than Luke, although he couldn't be sure with the way the guy was slumping against the counter. There was nothing obviously, physically wrong with him – no suspicious scars or eye patches, Luke thought ruefully. He had no idea what had come over him to make him go on that rant with Jess.

"I'm Ted, by the way," the guy said, holding out a hand. "Edward. Kepner."

Luke shook his hand briefly, firmly, and nodded. "Luke."

"Yeah," Ted laughed, a little nervous. "Anyway, uh. Thanks."

"Oh, no problem. It's always great spending time with Jess." Luke grimaced inwardly. He meant it, but for some reason it sounded phony.

Ted looked genuinely surprised. "Oh, yeah, I know. No, I mean for driving him home. I know traffic's a beast around here, but I really appreciate you didn't put him on the bus. I would've driven him there if I'd known, but Lizzie didn't mention it. I thought you guys arranged a rendez-vous at a halfway point or something. I was shocked when I heard. Those two are nuts!" He pointed toward Jess' room. "Sticking a kid on a bus by himself? But they both act like, 'No big deal, he's ten.' It's crazy!"

"Oh," Luke said dismissively. "It's no problem at all." He was beginning to feel a little bad for being brusque earlier. "Hey, where _is _my sister?"

"She's out shopping," Ted said with a little smile, like it was a joke Luke was supposed to get.

"So… you live here?"

Ted's eyebrows dipped. "Yes." He pushed away from the counter to rinse his cup in the sink. "This is my place. Liz's name's on the lease now, but, huh. Yeah."

"Oh." He wondered why Jess hadn't said anything. "Liz did not mention that."

Ted laughed, but it sounded forced. "She can be forgetful."

Just then, the door opened. Luke hadn't moved far inside the apartment and had to move away quickly to avoid being either hit by the door or run over by his sister. She had a big garment bag in her hand.

"Hellooo – Oh! Luke!" She yanked him into a hug even as he was gathering his bearings. "It's so good to see you! You look so good!" He doubted she'd actually looked at him before embracing.

"Thanks, thanks," he said, trying to gently pull out of her hold. She cupped his chin in her hands and squished his cheeks, ginning. He swatted her hand away. Usually, Luke was most aggravated with his sister when she was making terrible decisions and expecting him to bail her out. He'd forgotten how irritating she could be when she was happy.

"How are you? How's Rachel?"

"She's fine," he glossed, really not wanting to get into the details of his relationship with his sister.

Liz gasped. "Oh, she left you? Ugh, I'm so sorry." She stuck out her bottom lip in exaggerated sympathy. On anyone else, it would be sarcasm, but that was just the way Liz was. "You liked her so much. So did I! She was beautiful."

"She didn't leave; well, I mean, she left, like, she's not in Stars Hollow. She's away on business and she's coming back home. _Our_ home, where we live together, because we're fine." He took a deep breath and quietly hated his inability to do anything but ramble when he wanted to be succinct.

"All right," Liz said, clearly unconvinced or unconcerned. "So, you boys have met?" She slid over to Ted, wrapping her arms around his middle. Ted looked slightly abashed, but put an arm over her shoulder and kissed her forehead.

"Yes, just now." Luke swung his arms awkwardly at his sides. He hoped they didn't invite him for dinner.

"Hey," said Ted, pointing to the bag in her hand. "You find something?"

She took a step away to lift her arms in victory. "Oh! I did! And it's beautiful and wonderful but you can't see it yet! You are going to _die_."

He smiled. "I can't even imagine."

"What'd you get?" Luke wasn't sure why he asked. He couldn't think of a lot of things he cared about less than what Liz bought while she was out, leaving him alone to meet a total stranger and have uncomfortable conversations in the man's kitchen.

Her jaw dropped and she put her hands to her chest just as Jess was walking out of his room. He was already reading a book and didn't acknowledge any of the adults in the kitchen as he entered the living room. Liz punched Luke's arm lightly. "Oh, man! I can't believe I forgot to tell you!" She put her hand in front of his face, revealing a slim gold band with a diamond chip. "We're getting married!"

Luke stared at her. "Liz, can we talk?" He shot a look at Ted, who was already sidling out of the room.

"Gonna go check out some stuff over here," he muttered, pointing vaguely at the hallway. Luke heard him walk into the living room and start up a conversation with Jess.

Liz sighed. "Come on, Luke, don't tell me you're not happy about this. Don't be like that this time. I wanna be excited. I just bought my dress." Her tone was light but imploring.

"Don't be like what? Like you just announced that you're getting married to a guy I've never met before and who I didn't even know existed until a week ago?" He lowered his voice. "Does Jess even know?"

She laughed. "Of course he knows! He's known for ages. He's excited." She said the last part with a shrug, as though she didn't really believe it herself.

Luke rubbed his cheek thoughtfully. "He didn't tell me."

"He's ten."

"Eleven in two months," Luke added quietly. He ran the last week over in his mind and an ache bloomed in his stomach. He had immediately put Jess on guard with the talk about Liz's irresponsibility and insinuations about Ted. Why _would_ Jess have shared anything about his home life with Luke? They hadn't really talked at all, but Luke had been considering the trip, on the whole, a fairly successful bonding experience with his nephew.

"Congratulations, Liz." He looked her in the eye as he said it, trying to mean it. Her smile widened and she tossed her head.

"Aww, thanks, Luke. The ceremony's not even really gonna be a ceremony. We're just getting married by a justice of the peace." She leaned in conspiratorially. "Ted's family's not coming. They aren't very supportive." She made a face and Luke wondered if that was directed at him. Sometimes it was difficult to tell if Liz was being passive aggressive or just obtuse. "It's in September. Wanna come?"

"We'll see."

"Yeah. Thanks again for hanging out with Jess. I know he loves it. He loves you." Luke hated that it sounded like Liz was trying to reassure him.

He nodded. "I'll just say bye to him and go."

"OK. I'm gonna put this in my room!" She shook the garment bag at him and practically skipped away.

Luke leaned around the wall to look into the living room. Jess' feet were visible on the arm of the couch and Ted was sitting on a chair nearby. He glanced up and smiled.

"Oh, you going?"

"Yep. It was nice to meet you."

"Yeah, you too."

Ted opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but snapped it shut quickly. He turned his head to the couch and poked at Jess' head. "Hey. Say bye to your uncle."

Jess sat up, draping his arms over the back of the couch. "Bye, Uncle Luke," he said. "Thanks for taking me camping. And for teaching me how to gut a fish."

"Sure," Luke replied. Jess flopped back down immediately and Ted sent Luke an apologetic look. He could almost hear the excuse: _he's ten_. He hardly talked to you all week because he's ten, he didn't tell you his mother's getting married because he's ten, he doesn't care that you're leaving because he's ten. Luke couldn't wait for what puberty would bring.

Luke left, telling himself he should have known better to expect anything different from Liz. Every time he spent time with her or talked to her, he came away frustrated and bitter. He shook off the feeling that Jess' distance had more to do with Luke than with Jess' age or the infrequency of their interaction, or tried to.

September rolled by and Luke remembered that Liz was getting married, but she hadn't specified a date and he didn't ask. Two weeks into October, he got a card in the mail containing a picture of Liz and Ted on their wedding day. They were dressed nicely but not formally, standing beneath a tree with red-gold leaves. They looked happy, grinning at the camera. Jess stood just in front of them, smiling crookedly, and Liz and Ted both had a hand on either of his shoulders.

* * *

Luke walked back to the waiting room in a daze. Lorelai made an abortive move to get up when she saw him coming, perching instead on the edge of her chair.

"That was fast," she said.

"Can I borrow your phone?"

"Huh?"

"I need to call Liz," he said, only aware of his conviction to tell his sister as he was saying the words. "She needs to know what's going on."

Lorelai held the phone out to him tentatively and he thanked her. Compared to the dim lighting in Jess' room, the fluorescent glare of the waiting room was blinding. He blinked away the blurry edges of his vision as he dialed. It occurred to him as the phone rang that he didn't know what time it was. It could be three a.m., could be ten.

It was evidently before Liz got up, because she answered on the last ring before the answering machine. It sounded like she dropped the phone. He heard a muttered "shit" and then her tired sigh.

"Hello?"

He had no idea what he was going to say. In a detached part of his mind, he was aware that he was furious with Liz, but he wasn't even sure why anymore. "Liz."

"What? Who's – Luke?"

"Liz," he said again, gutteral.

Her breath hitched. "Luke, what's wrong? Is – is it Jess?"

_Yes it is. Your ex-husband paid him a visit tonight like he did six years ago and I never knew about it, and now Jess is in a hospital room looking like he's gone and I can't reach him and there's no way I can do this, how can I do this, how can I be enough for him?_

What he said instead was "Ted," and that was all he needed to say, because Liz was crying before the word was completely formed. He had no idea how she knew, but he didn't have to explain. She was sobbing and apologizing and it was a horrible sound, scratchy and garbling through the connection.

He wanted to yell at her. He wanted to get furious and scream and punch through walls and demand explanations. It would be such a welcome release. Luke opened his mouth to speak, but the only thing that came out was a gentle, "Liz." He couldn't bring himself to do it, either too exhausted or too sorry for her. She cried and he repeated her name until he heard a _click_ and the static of dead air.

Luke pulled the phone away and stared at the blank screen. He didn't know what he'd been expecting her reaction to be, but hanging up on him came as something of a surprise. He handed the phone back to Lorelai, who looked at him with open confusion.

"Luke," she started, but cut herself off as he sat heavily beside her. He didn't turn to her as he spoke.

"That guy," he said, surprised at how even his voice was, "was Ted Kepner. He was married to my sister about six years ago. After they were divorced, I just thought it was another one of Liz's many bad relationship decisions. You can probably guess," and he could hear Lorelai's unsteady breathing, "_why_ things ended.

"I didn't know." He stared down at his fingers, lightly coated with grime. "Jess said, 'the first time.' There was a first time. When he was eleven. And I had no idea. I don't know how many times there have been. Lorelai, I'm coming apart."

She put a hand on his back, between his shoulder blades, and rubbed little figure-eights there. He didn't turn to her because he needed to say this, he needed to confess all his guilt, even if it wasn't to Jess. He knew if he looked at Lorelai he wouldn't finish.

"I kept trying to figure it out before. I was running it over and over in my head, what I could have done to stop Ted from getting into the diner, or how much quicker I would have needed to be, or where I would have needed to go in order to find Jess. Or how much sooner we could have gone back to stop everything right before it happened, and I think I came up with ten minutes, on the outside. I kept thinking, 'Ten minutes, that's nothing. It's so unfair so much can go so wrong in ten minutes.'

"But that's a lie. I was letting myself off easy. I needed to be much earlier than that, by at least six years. Ten to be safe. And I wasn't there."

He faced her at last, ready to accept whatever judgment she would offer. He expected, he wished for, her anger, a pointing finger and a cold _Luke Danes, this was your fault_, but there was no accusation in her sad clear eyes. She was crying, but so was he, because she used her free hand to cup his cheek, and with her thumb she brushed tears aside. Lorelai slid her arm across his back and held him, but she didn't say anything to condemn or forgive. It was this last gesture of physical comfort that impacted Luke like a blow to the top of his skull, cleaving him in half. He crumbled, resting his head on her shoulder because he didn't have the strenght to hold it up. He cried and she cried and they sat together like that for a very long time.

to be continued


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes**: Again, long. Like, freakishly long, I'm so sorry. There will be more of Luke and Jess and things happening next chapter, I promise. Thanks again, forever, times a million, to everyone who's reviewed.

* * *

**(four)**

Lorelai hated the hospital chairs. As welcome a comfort as it would have been to spend the morning waiting hours holding Luke, it was an impractical position to maintain. Her back ached and the armrests of both of their chairs were digging into her side just under her ribs. She didn't mind much, but when she shifted to try to find a more comfortable angle, Luke lifted his head and pulled away so her arms were still around his shoulders but their bodies weren't touching. His mouth was right next to her ear and his breath warmed the base of her jaw.

"Sorry, are you…" he started, his voice low and loud in her ear.

"Oh, fine, no, really, I – " she tried to protest, but she loosened her grip and leaned back to look at him. He quickly put a hand to his red eyes, sniffling and breathing deeply. Lorelai sat back, stiffly but reluctantly, leaving one arm much more in his space than her own. Luke leaned into her touch, palms pressed over his eyes. His jaw and throat worked spasmodically and she used two fingers to gently rub his neck.

Eventually, he straightened in his seat again, folding his arms over his chest. She pulled her hand away from his skin but left her arm resting on the back of his chair. They seemed to have run out of anything to say, and Lorelai ran through an ever-growing mental list of things she had to take care of – for herself and for Luke – when she got a chance. The next time he left the room, she would start making phone calls. She felt guilty leaving him to take care of business, and whenever he left, she nearly drove herself crazy with boredom, anxiety, and trying not to think about what had happened to Jess. She hoped her cell phone had enough life in it to get her through the necessities.

Luke wasn't forthcoming with details – she doubted he had enough of his bearings to know them all himself – so she had no idea what was going on with Jess or his mom or the hospital, and there was no way she was going to ask. As time went on and they heard nothing, Lorelai could only guess that Jess was undergoing what Luke had earlier, euphemistically, called a "thorough examination."

A doctor came in – the same one from earlier, Lorelai thought – and Luke left with him. She thought she heard something about "discharge" or "paperwork," which, if true, was a blessing. In the meantime, she needed to make more phone calls, stupid fiddly distractions that needed to be handled and that she could handle.

Lorelai checked the time on her phone – a little before 7:00 a.m. She snorted. She felt like she'd aged years in the last several hours, and wouldn't have been too surprised if she discovered the hospital's waiting room existed in a time vortex that kept her and Luke agonizing through months while an hour passed to the outside world. That was the way all waiting rooms felt, though.

Rory was first on the list of necessary phone calls. She answered the phone sounding anxious and tired and Lorelai's heart twisted with sympathy. While it wasn't any sort of peach to actually know the details of the situation, having concrete information was probably better than sitting up alone in an empty house all morning only with vague details and a well-educated imagination to fill in the gaps.

Lorelai couldn't clarify much more, though she was glad to be able to have an actual medical problem to relate. "Concussion," while insignificant in light of everything that happened, was one true thing she could tell her daughter.

"Concussion," Rory repeated, concerned, and Lorelai knew that as soon as she hung up, Rory would research the condition and then have a million questions to ask and probably know more about Jess' symptoms than Lorelai did. "What happened? You didn't really say earlier."

"Oh," she paused, mentally kicking herself for not coming up with a story that would sound at least remotely plausible to Rory. "I'm not totally sure, actually. Some, you know, guy broke in and Jess was there and I guess there was a scuffle and Jess got hurt." She winced. She was a terrible liar, at least with Rory. With Emily and Richard, on the other hand, she was fantastically accomplished, or she used to be.

Rory was quiet for a while. "Mom," she said softly.

"Honey, I really don't have all the details. The important thing is that everyone's … will be OK. They will be. Luke is OK, Jess will be. He will." Her stomach churned at the words.

"So it's not bad?"

"What?"

"The concussion. It's not bad?"

"Ah… nope, not too bad, as far as head injuries go, I guess," Lorelai said, summoning a falsely casual tone that echoed tinnily in her ears.

"He didn't lose consciousness, then?" Lorelai frowned. Was Rory looking it up while she was on the phone, or did she already know this for some reason?

"No, he didn't. I can pretty definitely say he didn't." She wasn't sure, though. She was only guessing that Jess had been conscious while they waited for the police to arrive. He hadn't moved, apart from trembling, and she hadn't been able to see his face. Her breathing turned shallow as she thought of it and she squeezed her eyes shut at the memory. She'd been bewildered, knowing nothing of the situation except that Jess was hurt in a way that made him cling to her and Luke was holding down his attacker and all she could do was frantically put the information together to come up with terrible scenarios, the most nightmarish of which had been true. She opened her eyes again when she heard Rory speaking.

"Oh, well, that's good." Rory seemed relieved and Lorelai was glad. She couldn't fake even a semblance of normality at the moment, and all she could hope for was that Rory wouldn't pick up on the truth.

Lorelai breathed deeply, fighting back tears again. It seemed like all she'd done for the last several hours was cry or want to cry. "Are you going to school today, babe?"

"Oh," Rory said in a small voice. Lorelai had thought about this a lot while she was waiting. It had been a great internal debate and if it had been any other situation she would have given her warring urges silly voices and nicknames and told amusing anecdotes about their argument. A large part of her wanted to keep Rory at home so her daughter would be there so whenever Lorelai got back, she could take her in her arms and hold her until morning. A greater part, though, knew that Rory would drive herself crazy with worry if she didn't have something to do. Apart from which, Lorelai would feel much better if Rory were safe at Chilton instead of alone at home, undefended.

"There's no real reason for me to miss it, right?"

Lorelai shut her eyes again, screwing up her face and gritting her teeth in preparation for the lie. "No, sweetie, everyone's fine."

Rory hesitated. "You're sure?"

Lorelai sighed into the phone. "If you really want, I can call the school, say there's a family emergency." _Family emergency_, she thought, the words echoing in her head. _Family_.

"No, that's all right," Rory mumbled. "I have a test this afternoon anyway."

Her heart skipped a little in relief. "OK. Take my car."

"OK. See you when I get home?"

"Yeah. Yeah, absolutely." She hoped so, anyway.

"All right." Lorelai just listened to her breathe, not wanting to cut the connection. "Mom?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"I love you."

Lorelai had to bite her lip. Fuck it, she was tearing up again. "I love you, too. Everything's fine, though. Don't worry."

"Yeah. Bye."

"Bye."

Lorelai sniffed sloppily, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. She stomped her foot in frustration. She wanted to be home and she hated herself for wanting to be home. And she was _so goddamn grateful_ that Rory was safe she was almost sick with it. She told herself that the gratitude was not a bad thing, it was not the sort of situation where she was glad that it was Jess _instead of _Rory, it wasn't, and she shouldn't even think that, because all she was happy for was that her daughter was well, even though she had never logically been in danger of being hurt. But the relief still felt like a stain on her heart, a dirty thing that mocked everything Luke and Jess had been through.

She sniffed again and shook her head. She wouldn't even think about it. She wouldn't wallow in guilt and self-recrimination when she could be productive in ways that might help Luke. Lorelai pinched the bridge of her nose and fought back her rising emotions. Later, she would have to set aside time to have a massive breakdown, just cry into her pillow until her eyes stuck shut and her lungs were raw.

She took time to collect herself before making the rest of her calls. She called the inn to tell them she was taking a personal day and the phrase _family emergency_ ran through her mind again, niggling at her conscious, though she couldn't pin down exactly why. When she hung up from her last call, she checked the battery level, noting there was probably only just enough life left for another call or two if there was an emergency.

"God bless this phone," Lorelai whispered, kissing the keypad.

"Hey, Lorelai." She turned quickly to see Luke standing behind her, looking hesitant. She hadn't even heard him approach.

Lorelai stuffed her phone back in her coat pocket. "Oh, hey. Hey, what's the news?" He was pretty inscrutable most of the time, but she was having a hell of a time reading his emotions today.

"Discharged," he said, pointing over his shoulder at, Lorelai guessed, Jess' room.

"That's good! So his concussion's not bad? How is he?"

He shrugged. "His head's not as bad as they thought it was, apparently, and he's… giving a statement to the police." Luke looked relieved, and, frankly, Lorelai was surprised. Jess didn't seem like the type who would willingly talk to the police about anything, even if he wasn't the one in trouble.

"Good, also good."

"Yeah, so while he's doing that, they're trying to find him clothes. Part of doing," Luke paused and harrumphed and shuffled his feet, "the thing is they'll give him new stuff to wear so he doesn't have to put on the clothes he _was _wearing, which is good. I didn't think about that, so it's great they do that." He looked at her and then at the wall. Lorelai noticed that he would never meet her eyes when he was talking about anything even peripherally involved with the rape. "The thing is, they don't really have a lot of guy's clothes on hand, so they're having to search around a little."

She felt a pang for Jess and bit her lip. "OK. Hopefully that doesn't take too long. I've gotta tell you, I hate this place." She laughed ruefully and he cracked the barest smile.

"Yeah," he agreed. He rubbed his hands together and shuffled and Lorelai dipped her head to try to catch his eye. He obviously wanted to say something else. Luke glanced at her and she raised her eyebrows. He stepped closer and lowered his voice, saying urgently, "Lorelai, I just thought about this, but we can't go back to the apartment. Where are we supposed to go? God _damn _it, I can't believe I'm so stupid. There's no way we're going back there, no _way_ I'm taking him back to that place." He gestured sharply with his arms. "We're going to have to move."

She put a hand on his shoulder. "Luke, it's all right. I actually just booked you guys a room at the Independence. If you don't mind."

He stopped moving completely, looking at her with an intensity that made her self-conscious. "Lorelai."

"I hope that's OK," she continued as though he hadn't said anything. "And you can stay there indefinitely. Well, maybe not until, like, _May_, because that's when we start getting busy with weddings and we'll probably need that room for people reserving blocks, although, really, I suppose we could just reserve around that room, so, yeah, you can stay indefinitely." She kind of chuckled and smiled tightly.

Luke briefly covered his eyes with his hand and breathed in sharply. "Thank you, Lorelai. I had no – I hadn't even thought about it and… " he trailed off, shaking his head.

"Yeah," she murmured. "And I called Ceasar -"Luke looked up sharply "- I called 411, didn't know his last name, but it turns out that if you start to cry, the operator will help you track down the only Ceasar in Stars Hollow. And I – didn't really know what to do there, so I just told him the diner wouldn't be open today and that you'd be in touch with him." She lifted one shoulder helplessly. "I'm sorry if I overstepped or anything, I just. You have a lot more important things to worry about and I thought if I could take anything off your plate, I would. I should have mentioned it before I made the calls, I know, but it all just seemed so insignificant in light of –"

"Lorelai," he cut her off, putting his hands on her shoulders. He seemed overwhelmed, but not angry. Luke looked in her eyes, searching, and Lorelai could feel her palms tingling. Something about the way he was looking at her made her want to turn away, but she couldn't.

"Mr. Danes?" They both startled and Luke turned around, stuffing his hands in his pockets. A nurse waved at them and gestured for Luke to follow her. He turned back to Lorelai ruefully.

"It's OK, go," she said.

"Thank you," he whispered before following the nurse out of the room.

Lorelai punched the wall lightly. Without any calls to make, she was left to shift anxiously from foot to foot. The coffee here was absolutely terrible, but it was cheap and caffeinated and she had very little money on her. Four cups on an otherwise empty stomach left her unsettled and a little nauseated, although that could have easily been a product of the evening's events, or some combination of all of it. She was tired well beyond her second wind to the point of having a constant, vicious headache and the world buzzed around her too quickly for her perception to follow accurately. She felt old in her joints, a dull thrum that settled in her hips and extended up to the base of her spine and down to the top of her thighs.

She laced her fingers together at the back of her head and stretched. She couldn't quite piece everything together – what had happened the day before. The day before. Not even 24 hours ago, nothing at all was wrong. Then Jess skipped out on his shift at the diner, and it was a pretty weird coincidence that it happened on the day his former stepfather came to Stars Hollow if the events were unrelated. She couldn't figure out _how_ they might be related, and she didn't know what was going on with Luke and Jess or Jess and his mom or _Luke_ and Jess' mom. Luke's phone call to Liz had been especially strange. It didn't matter, she supposed, and she knew as much as she needed to. And Ted, whoever the fuck he was, was in police custody, and Jess had given the police a statement, and, unless she was completely wrong about the situation, Jess had consented to a rape kit. So, really, Ted wouldn't be a worry anymore. Logically.

Lorelai walked fidgety turns around the room, flipping open magazines and closing them again in irritation. She was just about to hunt down a nurse and bully them into telling her what was going on with Luke and Jess when they came around the corner. She was so relieved to see them she almost put her arms over her head and cheered. Instead, she jogged over to them, ignoring Jess' bruises and focusing instead on how much better he looked than he had in the hospital room, and especially how much better than he looked in the apartment.

She knew instinctively she wasn't going to get away with hugging Jess after this, and she took the opportunity to put her arms around his shoulders and squeeze. His arms lifted slightly – she couldn't tell if it was an aborted attempt to reciprocate or push her away, but he allowed it.

Lorelai stepped back and put a hand to his face, but pulled it back quickly, recalling herself. Jess scratched his neck uncomfortably and looked at the floor and Luke's expression was caught somewhere between amusement and confusion. The staff, it seemed, hadn't found clothes that fit Jess, because he was wearing scrub pants and a plain t-shirt that came down to the middle of his thigh. Topped off with his jacket, the whole ensemble looked ridiculous, and Lorelai wished she could tease him about it as a way of expressing how stupidly happy she was to see him up and walking and healthy enough to be discharged. But she wasn't on those kinds of terms with Jess, and anyway she felt like trying to be funny would be pretty inappropriate.

They all piled in the cab of Luke's truck, and there was a tense moment when Jess paused before getting in, his foot on the step and his head bowed. Lorelai worried she or Luke would have to help him up and she wondered if it would be better, for the sake of his pride, to pretend like she didn't see his weakness and just let him struggle. She didn't have to make the decision, though, because Jess pulled himself in, his movements only stiff to her eyes because she was on the alert for anything that might be off.

She climbed in after him, and the three of them sat elbow-to-elbow in the front seat, not speaking or meeting each other's eyes. Jess feigned sleep early on, tilting his head back at what must have been an uncomfortable angle. After a while, Lorelai realized he actually had drifted off. His breathing was soft and shallow and he gradually shifted closer to her, leaning so his shoulder dug into hers. She watched his sleeping face closely, studying him in full light for the first time since he'd been attacked. He was pale, but he looked better than he had in the hospital room. The little bruises on his cheek and jaw still made her feel sick to her stomach, though. When she first noticed them, she'd wanted to hurt something, tear it apart. She felt a curious desire to put an arm around him, to support him, but she held back.

Lorelai gave Jess a tiny nudge with her elbow when they reached the inn and he was instantly awake, sitting upright and blinking quickly. She kept her back to the truck after she got out, so she never saw if Jess had trouble stepping down.

Lorelai took them through a service entrance she hadn't used in a long time. She didn't want to draw the attention of staff or guests, largely for the purpose of discretion and to afford Luke and Jess some privacy, but she was grateful to be out of view, too. She had no desire to explain what she was doing there if she was taking a personal day, or to speak at all. And she was a mess. She was unshowered, her shirt wrinkled and bloody, and she hadn't put on a bra when she decided to help Luke with his search. At the time, it had seemed like too much effort and insignificant if she was wearing a coat, but she became acutely aware of the lack of it at the hospital, and since then she couldn't help feeling exposed and uncomfortable. She zipped up her coat and tugged self-consciously at the bottom.

She ducked her head and scratched her temple as she passed one of the maids. She just didn't want to talk. And she looked like a scraggly, unkempt disaster in the inn she _ran_. She hadn't felt so out of place in these walls since the first time she found herself at the door, frightened, desperate, and probably just as much of a mess.

They reached the main hallway just off the lobby and Lorelai glanced around. There wasn't a lot of activity yet, but there wasn't any reason to open them up to unnecessary attention. "Wait here a second," she muttered, and while neither of them said anything, they pulled back into the corner in an identical nervous shuffle. She kept her eyes to the ground as she walked behind the main desk, simply ignoring Michel and grabbing the key to Luke and Jess' room.

She motioned with her finger for them to follow her and they fell into step behind her. None of them spoke, and it was starting to make Lorelai edgy. She was extremely grateful to finally reach their door, which she unlocked for them, and then handed the key to Luke.

"Thanks," he said gruffly, rubbing the tip of his nose.

She nodded and touched his arm. "You know," she said gravely, "it's no problem at all. If you need anything, you let me know."

"Yeah, of course," he replied absently.

"Hey, Luke. I mean it." He met her eyes briefly and nodded. She turned to Jess. "You hold him to that." Jess blinked at her, apparently surprised at being addressed at all. He said nothing.

"OK," she said after a moment of heavy silence. "I will see you guys… later."

Luke and Jess shuffled into their room and Lorelai sighed deeply. She'd been holding off feeling her exhaustion as long as possible and it now it was pounding on the inside of her skull. She crossed her arms over her chest and trudged to the kitchen. Sookie had agreed to give her a ride home, and nothing had ever sounded so appealing in her life as being inside her own house. Didn't matter what she was doing, even just sitting at the kitchen table and staring at a wall, she wanted her home.

Sookie fidgeted and made a soft fuss over her, which was, in a way, soothing. On the ride to Lorelai's, she avoided talking about what had happened, which Lorelai had been vague about on the phone. Lorelai could tell she was practically twitching with the desire for details, but she appreciated Sookie's restraint. Mostly, she chattered about the morning's small excitements and catastrophes and glanced over at Lorelai enough to worry her a little about how much attention Sookie was paying to the road.

Sookie came inside with her, and, having run out of things to say, followed Lorelai quietly into her kitchen. Lorelai sat down heavily and made a move to unzip her coat but remembered the blood on her shirt and paused with her hand on her collar. She looked up at Sookie, who didn't seem to notice that she'd stopped herself, and was just watching her with concern.

"_I'm _all right," Lorelai said finally. "I'm tired and stressed out, but I'm fine."

"OK," said Sookie, a little dubiously. The corner of her mouth turned up. "You look awful, though."

Lorelai snorted and flipped her ponytail. "What are you saying? Sleepless, unclean and no makeup doesn't work for me?"

Sookie stepped closer and put a hand on her shoulder. "Oh, sweetie." Her voice was very soft. "So, a break-in, huh. That's terrible."

Lorelai sighed. "We've got to control the flow of information," she said, pressing her hands to her temples. "The story is that someone broke into the diner, nothing was stolen, Jess got hurt." She dragged her fingers over her cheekbones and pushed her fingertips into the corners of her eyes. "But he'll be fine." Her face got warm every time she said that.

"All right," said Sookie, rubbing Lorelai's shoulder. "I'll let the right people know." After a moment of quiet, in which Lorelai focused only on the comforting feel of Sookie's hand, Sookie asked, "So what really happened?"

Lorelai looked up, feeling cold all over. "What do you mean?"

"You said 'the story is.' So what's the truth?" She was wide-eyed, more concerned than curious. "What happened?"

Lorelai blinked rapidly. Shit, that was a big mistake. "That is the truth. It's the story and it's the truth." She smiled thinly, unconvincingly.

Sookie's brow furrowed. Lorelai was lying to everyone today. Badly. "OK," she said slowly. "If you can't tell me, you could say so. I won't be mad."

She shook her head. "No, that's the truth. That's what happened. Some strange, crazy guy broke into the diner and no one knows why yet. But everyone will be fine." Sookie's disbelief was evident, and, to top it off, she looked hurt. Lorelai put a hand over Sookie's and squeezed. "I swear, honey. I'm just so screwed up right now. I haven't gotten any sleep and, you know, an actual violent crime taking place in Stars Hollow? I'm pretty sure it violates the laws of the universe. I still can't make any sense of it."

Sookie laughed a tiny, forced laugh, but her expression cleared a little. "Yeah. I can bet Taylor will be launching a full investigation." Lorelai's stomach dropped and her fingers involuntarily tightened around Sookie's. "What's wrong?"

"I hadn't thought about that," Lorelai breathed. She thought she'd been so on top of everything, but it was possible that Taylor was a force she couldn't stop. "Luke and Jess have been through a lot already. The last thing they need is Taylor getting involved." He was probably already trying to contact the police about it, probably had been since he found out there had been emergency vehicles on the town's main street.

Sookie pulled up a chair and sat next to Lorelai. "Do you want me to stay? Can I get you anything?" Lorelai shook her head. She was grateful to Sookie, more than she could say, but she wanted to be alone to sort through her thoughts. And to break down if she needed to. She felt on the verge of buckling all the time. Sookie stroked her hair. "I could make you lunch."

Lorelai smiled briefly. "Oh, thank you, Sookie, but no. You've done so much for me – you gave me a ride home, and you left your lunch staff unattended to do it. And you gave me a muffin! I couldn't ask you for anything else, and I couldn't take anything else, either. I'm just going to crawl into bed and sleep. Forever." Or sit in the middle of the room and cry in her bathrobe, which sounded equally appealing.

Sookie was clearly unconvinced. "OK," she said anyway, picking up her purse and her keys. "But you make sure you call me if you need anything." Lorelai nodded, knowing she wouldn't, and she realized she'd said the same thing to Luke. Her heart dropped in her chest thinking that he might have been just as dismissive with her offer of help.

After Sookie left, Lorelai set about trying to find a semblance of normalcy. It took a lot of effort to pull herself up from the kitchen table and into her bedroom, and then even greater restraint not to fall face-first on the bed and curl up in the covers fully clothed. First, she needed a shower. She felt filthy and she kept getting the unpleasant sensation that her clothes were sticking to her in places. Lorelai shed her clothes as she walked to the bathroom, leaving them on the floor where they fell.

She made the water in the shower as hot as she could and still bear to stand under the stream, and even so, her skin turned an angry red as soon it touched her skin. She used her fingernails and her fanciest soap to scrub off the grime. When she was finally done, she felt as though she'd scraped off several layers of skin.

Lorelai walked downstairs slowly, her movements heavy and aching. She drew the blinds and sat in the corner of the couch, burrowing herself into the cushion and leaning her head against the back. She didn't plan on sleeping, not when there were still things to do. She had to come up with a course of action against Taylor. As soon as she thought of him, her headache was back with full force, beating an irritating throb at the base of her skull. Lorelai covered her face with her hand and was a little surprised to find that her eyes were wet again.

She didn't realize she'd fallen asleep until Rory woke her with a gentle touch to her shoulder.

"Mom?"

Lorelai's head snapped up, a move she regretted at once as the pain from her cramped neck rippled down her spine. "Ah, God," she whined, rubbing her neck. "Oh! Rory!" She shot up from the couch and threw her arms around her daughter, almost toppling them both to the ground.

"Oof," Rory grunted, hugging Lorelai in return.

Lorelai's emotions were coming to a head and bursting through her body to the soles of her feet and she practically hopped up and down. "Hey, honey," she said casually.

"Hi, Mom," Rory replied, her voice muffled.

"How are you? You just get home?" The last question was stupid because Lorelai was hugging around Rory's backpack, but she didn't care. She had to talk or she would cry.

"I'm fine," Rory said, adjusting her head so her mouth cleared Lorelai's shoulder. "And yeah." Lorelai rocked them back and forth softly and Rory chuckled. "Are you OK?"

"Yes," she breathed. "No. I'm not, not at all. This has been a very terrible day." She didn't let go and Rory didn't say anything, for which she was grateful. She was sure she wouldn't be able to pull away.

"How are they?"

Lorelai shut her eyes. She hated lying. She _hated _it. "They're OK. They're at the inn for now because they – understandably – don't want to go back to the diner so soon after the break-in." She was glad Rory couldn't see her face.

"There's more, though," Rory said against Lorelai's neck. "There's more you aren't telling me."

"Yes," she said, before she could even think to say "no." She pulled back to look at her daughter's face, cupping her jaw in both hands. Those big, sad blue eyes ought to be illegal. "There's a lot I don't even know, though, and I don't want to speculate about anything and give anyone the wrong information. If we ever do get the whole story, it'll be from Luke and Jess, but that might never happen. In the meantime, we just have to be supportive." Not a complete lie. There were a lot of holes in Lorelai's version of events, and so much she didn't know how to answer. It was easier this way, anyway. Rory knew her well enough to know that she was holding something back and trying to deny it would just be hurtful to them both and ultimately pointless.

Rory didn't say anything for a long time. "OK," she conceded at last. "As long as you promise me they're fine."

"They're fine," Lorelai said automatically, and her stomach dropped. She rubbed Rory's shoulders reassuringly.

Rory looked like she was going to press for more information – damn the investigative journalist in her – when the phone rang. Rory's head turned and she made a move for it, but Lorelai cut across her.

"No, no, I've got it," she said, practically diving for the phone. She didn't really know who she thought it might be, but she wanted to be the one to intercept any bad news.

"Hello?" she said, her voice so chipper she sounded like a cartoon. Rory looked baffled.

There was quiet on the other end for a moment. "Lorelai," Luke said, sounding very tired.

"Oh, Luke," she said, glancing over at Rory, who was immediately attentive. "What's – what's up?"

"I'm sorry for calling."

"No, don't be. I told you to call me if you needed anything, and I meant that."

"I'm probably bothering you during something important. I'm sorry, it's nothing."

For the first time that day, Lorelai was actually frustrated with Luke. What did she have to do to get him to realize that she _wanted _to help? And who called a person up just to tell them they were sorry to trouble them? Lorelai stopped herself and rubbed her temple. Someone who had been through an unbelievably shitty day, she reminded herself, and concentrated breathing evenly while her irritation drained out the base of her head down her neck and into her shoulders.

"Luke," she said firmly. "If you hang up without telling me why you called, I'm just going to drive over there and knock on your door _all night_. I might sing while I'm at it."

"It's just – we don't have – anything. I mean, we have towels and soap and everything, but no clothes, no pajamas. I don't even have my wallet. I need to go back to the diner, but I – uh – see, it's stupid. It's nothing."

"I'll go with you."

"What?"

"To the diner, to pick up your stuff. An extra set of hands will help." She cast a sideways look at Rory, who was putting her backpack down and watching Lorelai with a frown. Lorelai wasn't about to mention that she understood that he didn't want to go back to the apartment alone, not in front of Rory. "And I'm not taking no for an answer. I'm heading to the inn as soon as I hang up, so there's no use arguing."

"You're very stubborn," he said, but she could hear his relief.

"And very wonderful."

"And very wonderful," he agreed. There was something in his voice that made the back of her neck feel warm. "Thank you."

She swallowed roughly. "See you soon."

"Bye, Lorelai."

She hung up and sighed, looking over at Rory. "Well, I've gotta go again. I'm going to lend Luke a hand getting some things from the apartment. It shouldn't take long." She turned and headed for the foyer before Rory could say anything. She was a little pissed off – not at Luke, just the universe – that she had to leave again so soon after seeing Rory. She yanked her shoes on angrily.

"Wait," Rory called, jogging after her. "Does Luke need any help?"

"Yes, but that's why I'm going. You stay here and do your homework."

Rory's bottom lip jutted just a little. "I could help."

Lorelai snorted. "You're so _weak_, though, sweetie. You're not a very big fan of lifting things."

"I – hey! It's not like you're beating down people's doors to carry stuff most of the time, either."

"No, but that's because my hands are pretty, not because I _can't_. It's not like Luke would _let_ you do any kind of strenuous activity, anyway. Me, he isn't as fond of. I appreciate the offer, and I'm sure Luke and Jess would, too. We've got this covered, though."

Rory nodded sullenly.

"Lock everything," Lorelai said, pulling her coat on. "_Everything_."

"I promise, everything in this house that can lock, will be locked."

"Good. And double-check everything just to make sure. Maybe build some locks if you have spare time."

"Will do."

"Especially your bedroom window, because that creeps me out now." She stopped and smiled at Rory slowly, cautiously. "Or you could always go hang out in my room."

Rory tilted her head curiously. "Why would I do that?"

"Uh, because it's not on the first floor. People can't just press their faces up against the glass and watch you do your homework."

She made a face. "Ew. But my computer's down here."

"Rory, honey, you are a smart girl. And your computer is a laptop." It felt strange having this easy back-and-forth. She wondered if everything she was saying sounded stupid to Rory, too. Lorelai sighed. "Well, wherever you go, just make sure everything's secure and that there are no big neon signs anywhere advertising that you're here alone. Oh! Oh! Call Dean."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, barricade yourself in with him," Lorelai said as she grabbed her purse.

Rory laughed uncertainly. "OK, you're telling me you want me to lock myself in the house with Dean? Alone?"

Lorelai wouldn't have minded it. From what she could tell, Rory was nowhere near taking The Plunge with Dean, and she liked the idea of having a mountainous boy who was crazy about her daughter protecting her house. She envisioned Dean getting all red in the face, looming over anyone who dared threaten Rory, all floppy-haired and nostrils flared. She had never felt so affectionate toward him in her life. Lorelai rolled her eyes anyway and said, "No, when I say 'barricade yourself in with him,' I don't mean the two of you alone being lovey-dovey with all of the doors barred, I mean _use _Dean _to _block the door. He's very large. I think he has a lot of untapped potential as a road block."

"Ah, OK. I'll be sure to tell him. He'll be flattered."

Lorelai kissed her on the forehead. "And it really is all right if you want to invite him over. You know I trust you."

"Yeah, I know." Rory gave her a quick hug. "Go help Luke."

Lorelai looked at her, thinking of everything she didn't know, and shame gurgled acidly in the pit of her stomach. She didn't think about it, because she was furious with herself that she could even conceive of it, but more than a small part of her was relieved that Jess would pretty definitely not be pursuing her daughter. Even more so now that she was convinced he was incapable of having a healthy romantic relationship. She pushed it all down, though, telling herself that she was worn down to an emotional nub, making her vulnerable to the worst parts of her personality. She wouldn't indulge the guilt, she would just forget about it all, because she didn't want anything she did to be motivated by remorse for thinking anything so foul.

She gave Rory a tight hug again before leaving.

* * *

They parked in Lorelai's car in front of the diner. She scanned the street and surrounding buildings, hoping the feeling that everyone was watching them was just in her head. Living in a small town had its benefits, and the gossip didn't usually bother her, but gossip didn't usually have anything to do with her or the people she cared about. She kept feeling people's eyes on her, on them, kept hearing their whispers. It had been bad at the inn, but the closer they got to the diner, the more intensely she felt it, and her skin was crawling by the time she slid in the door behind Luke.

There was something rather post-apocalyptic-wasteland about seeing the diner completely closed up in the middle of the day. Lorelai glanced around nervously, edging closer to Luke. Her eyes lingered on the phone. As they had waited for the police last night, she'd noticed the phone in the apartment had been knocked off the hook, and she felt terribly guilty. She'd been so certain that Jess hadn't been in trouble – that he, in fact, _was_ the trouble - that she'd never entertained the idea that anything could be wrong with him, not even when she called and Luke didn't answer. She'd just assumed he was still angry with her. The shock of coming into the apartment and seeing Luke pinning a man to the ground across from Jess, bloody and curled tightly into himself, had been like a sledgehammer blow between her eyes. She thought it was possible she'd never been so stunned before in her life – the intensity of her surprise alone had almost made her sick. After the police arrived and Ted had been escorted out of the apartment and Jess coaxed from her arms, Lorelai had gently picked up the phone and placed it in its cradle.

Now it was like every prickling fear she hadn't felt the night before was plucking at her skin. She deserved it, but it made her useless. She was here to be support for Luke, but she wanted to grab a handful of his shirt and huddle behind him.

Luke walked through the diner slowly, navigating through tables and chairs like he was afraid to touch any of it. Lorelai felt a sharp pang for him. She couldn't even imagine what he was feeling. This was his diner, his _home_ for so long, and now it was crowded with ghosts. It had his father's notes written in pencil by the baseboard, it had Luke's childhood and adulthood and success, and now it also had Ted reeking out of the walls.

Luke reached the curtain and leaned forward, peering up the stairs. Lorelai caught up to him and stopped at his shoulder, glancing between him and the doorway. Her heartbeat was almost painfully hard, pounding up into her neck and ears. Impulsively, she grabbed his hand and squeezed.

He raised an eyebrow at her and she jiggled their joined hands. "Let's go together?" she offered. "If the staircase is wide enough?" He nodded and pushed the curtain aside.

It wasn't quite wide enough for the both of them, so Luke led and Lorelai followed just behind, still holding his hand. This was something they would never talk about later, she knew, and the comfort of Luke's strong rough grip made her feel a little childish, but she didn't care. They were the only ones who would ever know that they had needed each other's support just to make it up Luke's stairs.

They reached the landing, Lorelai a step after Luke. He dropped her hand and reached for the doorknob and she felt a moment of panic in which she wanted to yell at him not to open it. For a second she was certain the door would open to the same scene from last night, that Ted would be sitting at Luke's kitchen table. But it swung open quietly, without incident, and Luke stepped inside. Lorelai swallowed hard, feeling silly and stupid and weak, and followed him.

Her imagination was worse than reality – of course there was nothing ghastly in the apartment, it wasn't trashed, nothing was even broken as far as she could tell, the furniture had all been righted, and the walls weren't oozing blood. Daylight made it seem almost peaceful, almost harmless, but the skin on the back of her neck still prickled and she carefully avoided looking at Luke's bed. Her gaze fell on Luke's small living area and Ted flashed in front of her vision – his pathetic crumpled face wet with tears – and she had to put her hand on the table to balance herself.

Luke, seemingly unaffected, was in his closet, pulling out what looked like an overnight bag and a huge duffel.

"I'll pack up my own stuff," he said, handing her the duffel. "I'll start with the closet. If you wouldn't mind getting some of Jess' things from the dresser." He indicated it with a gesture and she nodded, taking the bag from him, her breathing still shallow and her pulse a bit too fast.

Lorelai almost offered to pack Luke's clothes for him and he could do Jess' – it seemed too personal, handling his things without him there. She ran her thumbs along smooth flat surface of the dresser drawer, considering it. Her eyes scanned the top, cluttered with teenage paraphernalia. His wallet, his watch, hair products. On the floor by her feet were his jeans, crumpled in a careless pile. She sighed and pulled the drawer open, biting back jokes about having to paw through Jess' underwear.

She had no idea how long Luke and Jess would be staying at the inn, so she grabbed as much as would conceivably fit in his duffel and leave room for necessities, which, considering Jess' meager wardrobe and the fact that she could have probably stuffed a couple of bodies in the bag, was practically all of his clothes. He'd want to cover up his wrists, so she took every long-sleeved t-shirt she could find. Lorelai glanced up and grabbed his watch and what looked like a leather bracelet. She didn't know how well they'd hide bandages, but he would probably be glad to have them anyway. She threw his wallet on top of everything and cinched the drawstring shut.

Luke was pulling shirts and pants haphazardly from the closet, pausing to put some back and then take them back out again. He muttered angrily under his breath. It didn't look like he had actually packed anything.

"Luke?"

"What?" he turned sharply.

"Do you know if Jess is reading anything? Would he want a book?"

Luke put his hands on the back of his head, looking blank. "Oh, yeah. He is. I mean, I don't know for sure, but I bet he is, because he always is. I don't know what in particular, but there are books… everywhere."

She nodded. "Do you mind if I look around?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

Luke was right. Jess' books weren't in any one place, but none of his belongings seemed to be. She doubted he actually _had_ somewhere to put his things, and, from what she could tell, he didn't have much. Aside from the obvious reasons for not wanting to stay in the apartment after last night, it was a very good thing Luke mentioned moving. Luke's apartment was small for one man, and it looked like Jess barely fit. Luke was stubborn, though, and, as long as nothing was horribly wrong with the living arrangement, he'd just let it stay the way it was. Well, something was horribly wrong with it now, she thought grimly, not looking at the foot of Luke's bed.

Lorelai made her way over to his desk, briefly scanning the surface. "Oh, Luke." She pointed at the flashing light on his answering machine. "You have a message."

They both watched the light blink. "You wanna… just leave it?" she asked. It was silly to be apprehensive about hearing the message. It could be nothing, but it might be a doctor or a police officer or Taylor, or anything that might break their tenuous silence about the events of the previous night.

Look eventually shook his head and hit "play." A quiet, female voice came over the speaker. She sounded tired, her voice heavy with emotion.

"Hey Luke… Jess." She said the latter name almost shyly, regretfully. Just from Luke's look of astonishment mixed with anger, Lorelai guessed this was Liz. "I'm sorry. Luke, I'm sorry I hung up on you earlier. I just – I couldn't. I'm sorry." There was a sharp, quavering intake of breath.

"And Jess – baby, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." It was getting increasingly difficult to understand her through her tears. Luke was completely still, his fingers suspended over the play button. "I just had to – to let you know that it wasn't my fault." The words all came out in a rush and at first Lorelai was sure she wasn't hearing things right. There was no way Liz was leaving this all on an answering machine. "He was here. He was here a few weeks ago, but I didn't tell him where you were. He asked me, but I didn't tell. It wasn't me. It's not my fault. I thought – I thought he'd leave us alone." Her voice trailed off in a squeak and the only sound that came through were quiet sobs.

Lorelai wanted to jump in and hit the stop button or rip the machine out of the wall. She was totally numb, stuck watching Luke's slack face and only guessing what he must be feeling when _she_ was furious and this wasn't even her family. "Jess," Liz said, and Lorelai gave a little start at hearing her voice again. "I'm so-"

Luke deleted the message, cutting Liz off mid-apology. Lorelai let out her breath in a shaky _whoosh_ and sought Luke's eyes hopefully, planning on making some _Wow, one hell of a lady, that Liz_ comment. Luke rested his hands on either side of the answering machine and seemed to consider it for a long moment. Without warning, he grabbed it and threw it, yanking the cord from the wall and pulling the phone off the table with it. The machine hit the opposite wall and shattered, spraying out more tiny pieces than Lorelai even knew went into one of those things.

"Fuck," he whispered harshly. Luke paced a step away from the desk and then back toward it, hands twitching. "Fuck."

He lunged at the table, knocking over one of the chairs, and shoved the table for good measure. Lorelai took a step back, her shoulders colliding with the wall. She knew her heart was beating hard, but she didn't consciously register fear or surprise. She was only aware of a slight jealousy that Luke still had enough energy for this.

"Fuck! Fuck! _Fuck_!" With every word, he kicked out, sometimes connecting with the overturned chair, sometimes with a table leg.

Lorelai watched him from behind, his shoulders rising and falling shakily, his fingers splayed out across the table and trembling. Suddenly he straightened and turned, locking eyes with her. Before she could think of opening her mouth to speak, his gaze went past her and he stomped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with enough force to reverberate into her fingertips.

Slowly, she pushed herself away from the wall and bent to pick up the chair. She gathered the pieces of the broken answering machine and dumped them in the trash, then plugged the phone in and placed it gently in its cradle.

Luke didn't come out, so she set to packing the rest of his clothes. He hadn't made much progress, and she did the same with his bag as she had with Jess'. When it was stuffed to maximum capacity with a variety of flannel button-downs, jeans, and the few nice shirts she bought for him, she zipped it shut and resumed her search of the apartment for books. It was like an Easter egg hunt – she found a couple of books on the dresser, some on the desk, on the floor, stuck between couch cushions. She'd have to ask Rory about possibly lending him some. She'd had some idea Jess liked to read, but this looked like more than a casual interest, and she was guessing she was only scratching the surface. Crazy teens these days, with their wild book habits.

She stacked the books that didn't fit in his duffel in a neat pile on the kitchen table. Next on the agenda: music. It would have been the first thing she wanted as a teenager. This was a considerably more difficult task, since she could only find a bulky stereo that was definitely too big to fit in anyone's bag. Besides, if there weren't headphones to go with it, she wasn't sure it was a great idea. It wasn't like Luke and Jess were _moving _to the Independence.

_And, oh, concussion_, she remembered suddenly, feeling foolish. She didn't know how badly Jess' head hurt but he probably wasn't going to be up for listening to headphones anytime soon, and reading would likely be painful, too. Oh, well. If she was wrong about him wanting the books, it wouldn't hurt to bring them to him.

Convinced that there was nothing more she could pack or tidy or do, Lorelai sat at the table, folding her hands loosely on the top. She stared at her fingers, tapping her nails against the hard surface, slowly at first, and then in quick succession. She would have to go back to work tomorrow. On the plus side, Luke and Jess would be there, too. Not all day, but knowing they would be close enough to easily contact took some of the edge off her anxiety.

She didn't want to think about the message she probably shouldn't have overheard. What her place was in all this, she couldn't fathom. If any of them – Jess or Luke or even herself – had any reservations over her involvement, it was far too late now. She was part of it, tangled up in their grief, and she didn't even want out, not exactly. At the moment, she was numb and tired and pretty well beyond feeling anything more intense than confusion. There was a lot she wasn't privy to, but she still couldn't believe Liz's message. It sounded like she had _known_ Ted was looking for Jess, and she hadn't let anyone know. Who said something like that on an _answering machine_? And how could Liz possibly understand what had happened to Jess last night and be preoccupied with denying her guilt in the matter? How could she _possibly_ not be here already, tearing down doors to see her son?

Luke finally emerged from the bathroom, his movements careful and quiet. His gaze skirted around her and she hated that he looked embarrassed.

"I packed up your stuff," she said, nudging the bag at her feet with a toe.

He glanced at it and at her and nodded. His eyes were rimmed red and Lorelai's heart nearly broke, again. Luke looked bereft, and she didn't know how to comfort him. All she did was what anyone could do, easy practical matters like making arrangements and packing bags. She felt her impotence as an ache that swelled up against her ribcage.

"You ready to go?" she asked. "Do you need anything else?"

"Uh. I don't know. Yes. I don't know. Yes, let's go." He bent, blindly reaching for the bags. She grabbed his before he could take them both and they walked out of the diner in silence.

By the time they got back to the inn, it was getting dark. Lorelai wrestled Jess' duffel from Luke, who tried to carry everything, and together they trudged inside.

"Thanks, Lorelai," Luke said for perhaps the fiftieth time that day, and she nodded. She was running out of ways to tell him he didn't need to thank her.

Luke knocked on their door and got no reply. He turned to Lorelai, who raised her eyebrows. "Sleeping?" she offered hopefully. He shifted his hold on his bag and unlocked the door, opening it to an empty room.

Lorelai's heart skipped. _Christ_, she thought, _we're stuck in a nightmare Groundhog Dag loop of the same 24 hours_. She really doubted she would survive very long if the rest of her life consisted of trying to hunt Jess down.

Luke walked inside, seeming surprisingly unconcerned. He picked up a note from the nightstand and gave a tiny scoff on reading it. He handed it to Lorelai. "I told him to let me know if he left the room, but this is a little vague."

_Went for a walk_, it read in meticulous tiny block printing. _Back later_.

She swallowed hard. She didn't know how Luke wasn't freaking out – Jess wasn't her nephew and the thought of him wandering around by himself was making her pulse erratic and heavy. Luke hefted his bag onto his bed and began pulling clothes out.

"Huh." Lorelai placed the note back on the nightstand. "His handwriting is surprisingly neat."

"Yep," Luke replied, and her eyes narrowed. She put Jess' duffel on his bed and sat down next to it. She watched Luke re-fold his pants in silence for a minute before sighing.

"I'll go look for him."

"You don't have to do that," he said without looking up. "I can't keep an eye on him every second of the day. I'm sure he'll be back soon."

That was very strange. This whole thing was surreal. She still wasn't convinced that she wasn't having an extremely long, terrible dream. "Luke," she started, unsure what to say. She didn't really want to pry into what was going on, didn't want to intrude on something so intensely private, but she also didn't want to assume that Luke didn't need her.

He didn't turn around, but he stopped unpacking and let his arms hang at his sides. Eventually, he exhaled heavily. "That kid is going to be the death of me."

"I'll find him," she said again, standing up.

"Ah, I dunno," Luke said, facing her. "He might really need the space right now. I have no idea. I can't get him to talk."

She shrugged. "Well, then I'll go ask him. You unpack." He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. "It's really no trouble," she said. "I know these grounds like I know my back yard." They were her back yard, in a way. They had been. "I'll give you a ring if anything's up."

He still looked uncertain, but she gave him a hug and a quick peck on the cheek before he could say anything. When she pulled away, his eyes were wide, though his expression was still grim. She smiled weakly. "It's OK, Luke," she said softly. "You don't have to do any of this alone."

Luke looked like he was going to say something, and Lorelai dreaded that he might thank her again. He kept saying it, like a mantra, like anything she had done so far wasn't simply what a friend would do for another friend, like she had actually done anything worth thanks. Instead, he lifted his hand, tentatively, holding it out like he wanted her to shake it, and then resting it against her neck. She was surprised at the familiarity of the touch, but more perhaps by how welcome it felt.

His thumb traced lightly across her jaw. She looked into his face, slowly tracking her eyes across his skin, all the wrinkles she hadn't really noticed before sharp and mournful around his eyes and mouth. Lorelai put both of her hands over his, looping her fingers loosely around his wrist. Gently, she pushed his touch away, but when his arm fell, she didn't let go, and she held his hand like that, studying his face. Luke's fingers twitched between her palms. He inhaled loudly and sighed, blinking rapidly. Lorelai let her hands drop.

"Ah, if you find him, you don't have to try talking to him," Luke said. "And if he comes back here, I'll give you a call."

"OK. Be back soon."

He nodded and walked her to the door. She didn't turn around, but she got the feeling he was watching her until she was out of sight.

Lorelai took a cursory walk around the grounds - some obvious places she knew Jess wouldn't go, if only because they were too public – before heading down a path much more familiar. It was like walking into Wonderland, this place full of memories more precious than anything she owned, that symbolized the beginning of her life as she lived it now, as she was proud to call her own. And somehow she just knew that Jess would be there, in this place that was hers and Rory's from when their life was gloriously open to all possibilities, full to bursting with their dreams.

"This is hilarious," she whispered to whatever deity was listening.

He was sitting on the far end of an old metal bench, looking pale and small. There was no way he knew the significance of this walk, or even that she and Rory used to live here, it was just secluded, woody, and quiet. It also used to be one of her favorite places to go to be alone, just her and Rory. She remembered sitting on that bench and braiding Rory's hair, or having Rory hop on her back from the seat and running around the path until the only thing she could hear was the rush of the wind and her daughter's laughter.

Jess didn't look up as she approached. He was hunching his body so the collar of his coat bunched up to his chin, and his sleeves were pulled up to the lower knuckle of his thumbs. He'd never had a lot of mass to speak of, but he looked positively fragile, bruises like ink stains on his face. His hair fell limply across his forehead and partially into his eyes. He'd never seemed so young, so defenseless.

She didn't hesitate to plop down beside him and bit back a squeal as the chill of the metal sent a shock through her legs. She'd forgotten how ungodly cold the bench got in weather like this. Rory used to laugh at her every Fall when she forgot that and jumped up shrieking about her poor numb bottom. She doubted Jess would find it as amusing, but her lips still tugged upward at the memory.

Jess was smoking, which in itself wasn't surprising. There'd been times she'd caught a whiff of cigarettes on him when he passed by, and she doubted that there was any self-destructive habit Jess could get his hands on that he didn't indulge in. What confused her was how he'd managed to find a pack. He was still wearing the hospital scrubs, and while she supposed there could have been money in his jacket somewhere, the inn didn't have a sundry store.

She was about to ask him, just to make conversation, when he dug in his pocket and pulled out the pack. She wanted to laugh – somehow, he'd found Michel's hidden stash of Gauloises he pretended not to smoke. He always professed to be healthy, that he never put anything impure in his body, but she'd found them tucked in a cubby in the front desk one day. When she asked him about it, he got defensive and high-pitched, denying that he would ever partake in anything so filthy, until she threatened to chuck them in the garbage disposal. He'd said they were too expensive to destroy like that, that they probably belonged to some rich guest with refined taste, and that Lorelai would be cursed with a long life with a terrible complexion if she dared throw them away. She teased him for as long as it stayed funny – which was a while – but eventually gave them back, and she hadn't seen the mysterious imported cigarettes since. She had no idea how Jess discovered them, but she was already looking forward to pretending ignorance over their disappearance whenever Michel figured out they were gone.

Jess pulled out a new cigarette and put it in his mouth, clamping his lips tight as he used the burning end of the one he'd been smoking to light it. He exhaled slowly and, to her great surprise, offered her the freshly-lit cigarette, putting the old one back in his mouth. She wondered if it was a challenge – Jess calling her bluff of trying to relate to him. Maybe it was a nod to her reckless youth, although she had no idea how much of her history Jess actually knew. Or, hell with it, maybe he was just offering her a smoke. She seriously doubted that Jess was thinking about her or her motivations at all.

She considered the cigarette for a moment before taking it, drawing it in with a long, tentative breath. It had been a very long time since she'd smoked, and though she'd tackled the habit with determination for the two years she fostered it, she knew this first one back would be a little rough. She'd started at fourteen, at a party she hadn't been invited to. An older boy, a senior whose name she didn't remember now and possibly hadn't known then, had laughed at her spunk and called her a faker when he saw her nursing a beer. She'd plucked the cigarette from his lips, took in a lungful of smoke, and blown it into his face. It took enormous restraint not to choke until she turned her back on him.

After that, she took up smoking simply because it seemed like something that would make her parents angry if they knew about it, because it was a challenge to keep it hidden from them, and because she had truly believed herself to be invincible. She was Lorelai Gilmore, the goddess of audacity, who was invulnerable to anything that affected other mortals simply because she had the daring to do them without fear of consequence. Nothing would hurt her, not smoking, not getting drunk and putting her hand in the grip of a boy she didn't know, not flipping up the back of her skirt at the men on the corner, not slipshod sweaty sex on her balcony. She had treated life carelessly, throwing her arms wide to a thunderstorm and daring lighting to strike.

She bowed her head and expelled smoke through her nose, feeling oddly guilty. The worst thing that had happened to her, for all of her spiteful disregard of her heart, body, and existence, was the best part of her life, was the greatest thing, she imagined, that could have happened to anyone. Sitting next to Jess, whose childhood she couldn't imagine without wanting to cry again, she wanted to apologize. For the shit that had happened to him, for how unfair it all was, for the fact that she lived a happy life. She rubbed away the sting in her eye.

As much as she would have liked to talk, to say anything, she couldn't think of a word worth speaking. The quiet was fine, just a gentle breeze and her breathing and Jess breathing. She plucked fibers off her tongue and allowed herself to sink back into some of her murkier memories. The last time she smoked she was pregnant with Rory. She had just found out – hadn't gotten it confirmed, but she knew. She was furious with herself, with Christopher - who suddenly seemed pasty and weak in her mind, and maybe not worth everything she'd given him – with her parents, with the baby. All she had left of a pack was four cigarettes, and she smoked them all, right in a row, sitting in her bathroom, propped up against her tub, with her head lolling against the rim. She told herself she didn't care about the health risk, about what effect her actions might have on the child she knew was there, ruining her life.

As she'd stared at her bathroom ceiling, she could still picture all the dreams she'd had for her life after high school. Europe. Christopher wouldn't be there – fuck him – but she would be, radiant and stunning. She'd saunter down cobbled walkways, she'd drink espresso with intellectuals and make them unintelligible because they'd be so taken with her charm, she would climb over the mountains. Or, well, she'd have strong, fabulous men carry her over them. She'd squeezed her eyes shut, indulging every instinct of self-pity she could muster and then some. It had taken her a long time, on the last drags of her last cigarette, to stop regretting what she probably would never have had anyway. She tried to imagine having a baby, but the idea of having a family had always been so far off for her she couldn't wrap her mind around it.

She was ashamed of it now, but her first maternal instinct toward her unborn baby had sprung selfishly from the desire to be everything to a child her parents hadn't been to her. All the grandeur of her dreams of Europe she transferred onto visions of motherhood. Those plans had come later, though. That afternoon in the bathroom all she accomplished was finally feeling guilty for the cigarettes she smoked, and all of a sudden she was puking in the toilet. She spent hours throwing up and crying.

She considered telling him the story of her last smoke previous to this one. She didn't know how much he knew of that story, how much Rory shared with him. Maybe then Jess would tell her stories of his _first_ cigarettes and they'd bond and wouldn't it be a lovely moment. Lorelai snorted at herself. This wasn't about her, wasn't about anything but being what Jess needed, and she doubted he had any idea what that was. They smoked together in silence, Lorelai casually and Jess with enormous focus, as though he were trying to beat a record.

"Are you going to smoke the whole pack?" she asked after he lit his fourth since she arrived.

"That's the plan," he said, voice low and raw. He looked over at her for the first time and indicated the butt she was holding with his chin. "Want another?"

"Sure."

He flipped open the carton, offering it to her. She plucked one out and he shrugged. "I don't have any more matches."

"That's OK. I can chain smoke as well as you can." She lit her cigarette with the dying end of the old one, just like he had.

He smiled a little. "Is that a challenge?"

Lorlelai laughed, surprising herself with the sound. "Ohh no," she said, and the smile on her face felt strange. "I wouldn't dare." Jess laughed too, quiet chuffs that nevertheless made the air around them lighter. "You're going at those like you've got something to prove to Freud."

He turned to her, eyes wide and expression horrified. She laughed, hard, not necessarily because what she said or even his reaction was funny, but because everything was so strange and she'd been lightly giddy all day. She thought she sounded a little crazy, but it felt good, a little catharsis in lieu of the hysterical sobbing breakdown she'd been planning on having.

Jess scowled at her, but there wasn't any conviction behind it. "Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar," he muttered. She tried to take a pull off the cigarette while she was still giggling and choked, laughing and coughing so hard tears came to her eyes. He patted her back and she was too lightheaded to register her surprise. "You deserve that," he said, and pulled his hand away quickly.

She pouted at him, or tried to, but, between laughing and hacking, it was difficult to do. "Ahhh, God," she moaned, breathing deeply and alternating holding her stomach and her chest.

"I'm pretty funny, though," she said when she mostly had her breathing under control. She directed the statement more to the air around them than Jess, just sort of relaying a fact to the universe.

"Laugh factory," he mumbled.

They sat together quietly through the rest of the pack. Lorelai managed to make three cigarettes last as long as it took Jess to smoke the remainder. She could already feel a bit of a new headache forming, just behind her eyeballs.

"I should get back," he said, not meeting her eyes. "Luke's worried." She thought that was interesting – the way he said it, it was as though the two statements were unrelated. His tone was almost curious.

"He is," she agreed, and Jess looked at her again. _We are_, she should have said.

He nodded, studying her face. "Yeah."

They stood up together and headed back to the inn. Lorelai felt a moment of intense regret that whatever they had shared with Michel's stolen cigarettes wasn't likely to last long**. **She was still surprised that Jess hadn't run from her after she'd seen him at his most vulnerable, after she'd cradled him as he trembled and hooked his fingers into her shirt. Her arms tingled at the memory and she stole a glance at Jess, who was right beside her but seemed far away, and far from the boy who had let her hold him in the apartment.

Luke answered quickly when she knocked on the door. He didn't seem to see her at all, and the undisguised look of relief on his face has he stared at Jess made her insides contract. He stepped aside and Jess pushed by, head bowed.

"Goodnight, guys," Lorelai called into the room. She saw Jess nod, although he didn't turn around.

"Goodnight, Lorelai," Luke said softly, holding up his hand.

"Goodnight, Luke," she repeated, and watched him back into the room and close the door.

Lorelai headed for her car, relieved to go home. Her plans for the next few hours were simple: she was going to go home and hold Rory until morning. Probably impractical, ultimately, but she'd settle for watching her do homework, or sitting close enough to brush fingers through her hair, or curling up on the couch beside her while she read. But she wouldn't think and she wouldn't have to make plans, and then she would go to bed and face the next day when it came. She was allowed to indulge her numbness in a situation like this.

_In a family emergency_, she thought wryly, and a tiny shiver ran through her body.

to be continued


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes: **There aren't enough words of thanks to express how grateful I am for the feedback I've gotten for this story. I'm overwhelmed, I'm touched, I'm humbled. Thank you all so much. Also, I - I don't have an editor, which I think has to be at least a little obvious. I'd like to issue a blanket apology for the errors I know are there, and for the errors that will be there in the future. Sorry. :\

* * *

**(five)**

The week since Ted left had been an odd slur of emotion and inactivity. Jess didn't remember much apart from Liz sobbing and apologizing and drinking, rinse, repeat. If he moved from his room, it wasn't for long. In the last couple of days, she seemed to collect herself – she ate, she made an effort to clean and dress herself, she went several hours at a time without crying. He knew that she made some phone calls, he assumed with her work, which she hadn't gone to at all. Add impending unemployment to the list of problems, Jess figured.

One morning, Liz came into his bedroom and sat beside him, squeezing her hands between her knees. She looked haggard, drawn. The skin around her eyes was red, but she looked sober. Jess was cross-legged, leaning into the corner. She straightened, dragging her fingers over her neck, and turned to him.

"It's just you and me now, baby," Liz said. She sniffed and rubbed at her eye. Jess always thought it was funny when she said that to him, after every boyfriend fucked them over in one way or another, and they were on their own, together. To his way of thinking, it wasn't like anyone else had been on their side in the first place.

Liz opened her mouth to speak, but shut it again, watching him. The corners of her mouth turned down and her eyebrows drew together and he thought she was going to start crying again, but she reached for him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and squeezing him tight, almost painfully tight. Her hair tickled the tip of his nose. She smelled like the soap she and Ted both used and Jess gagged, but Liz didn't notice.

"I love you," she said, a little thickly, "so much." He nodded against her neck. Jess knew. He wasn't sure why, but he never questioned it. "And we are gonna get through this." He didn't move. He had no idea what that meant. Get through it to what?

She pulled back, gripping his arms. Her fingernails dug into his biceps and his eyebrow twitched. She pressed her forehead against his. "You can't tell anyone," she said quietly. "And I'm sorry. It's so important that this stays secret, though." Liz pulled back a little to look him in the eyes. Her thumbs ran up and down his arms. "I'm not - " she chuckled dryly and rolled her eyes. "I'm not in a great place right now, and people would say I'm not fit to take care of you. They'd probably take you to social services."

Jess' skin prickled. He had never been in custody of the state before, didn't even know anyone personally who had, but it was just common knowledge, something kids like him grew up understanding, that it was a place you didn't want to be. It was their boogeyman, and no matter what you put up with at home, it was better than state care. And he knew that sometimes Liz lied, that she would bullshit him to try to scare him out of trouble, but this was something that always bore an element of truth. He knew his mom was messed up. He could tell when she was having really bad times and when she was trying to get clean, and she hadn't been doing well lately, even before everything fell apart. He hated that she was using his fear to manipulate him into keeping quiet, whatever her motivation might be. There wasn't anything she could have threatened him with to _make him_ tell.

He just nodded, though, because as soon as his anger rose into his chest, it seemed to dissipate. It was the same with anything he felt strongly, like he didn't have the energy or the focus to hold on to the emotion. The only benefit was that he couldn't muster the will to be concerned about it.

Liz ran fingers lightly through his hair and it made the skin between his shoulder blades itch. He wanted to tell her to stop it, that he didn't want to be touched like that, but her eyes were wet and he kept his mouth shut. "I have to ask you for a favor," she said. He nodded. "Can you leave the apartment today? And stay out for a while?" She was tucking strands of hair behind his ear, even though it wasn't nearly long enough to tuck.

He frowned at her. While there wasn't anything much appealing about being in the apartment, he didn't want to go out. He didn't want to see anyone, didn't want to talk, didn't exactly feel compelled to move. "Why?"

"I just – I have to do some things." Jess just sat, looking at her, not trying to make her feel uncomfortable because he didn't do anything with a great deal of motivation lately. None he thought about, anyway. But Liz shifted and her fingers clutched at his shirt briefly and she sighed and confessed, "I'm packing up Ted's things." Her voice dipped low when she said his name, and Jess almost choked when he tried to swallow.

"Uh," was all he said. He felt strange and confused, and he had no idea why Liz would feel like she had to keep that from him, unless she felt like she had to protect Jess from even mentions of the man. Getting his stuff out would be a good thing. The way Ted haunted the apartment was getting to be a problem. It didn't help that it was his place, that Jess and Liz had moved in with him and Liz had sold a lot of their stuff before they did because there was no reason for duplicates and Ted's things were, by and large, nicer than theirs.

It was a large part of why Jess kept to his room. It was a relatively safe place – when they first moved in, Ted had been using it as a study, which meant that all it had was a desk, a chair, and a bookcase with almost nothing on its shelves. The room was almost entirely Jess', his things and his bed and Ted had rarely spent time in there. If he'd wanted to talk to Jess, he would stay in the doorway or lean his head around the corner, but he didn't come in. So while Ted was everywhere, all over the walls and floors and furniture in other rooms, in Jess' bedroom, the only place he lingered was in Jess' head, on his skin.

"OK," Jess said after a long moment. Liz closed her eyes and knocked her forehead against his gently, brushing her knuckles across his cheek. She was moving to push herself off the bed when he spoke again. "I could help you." He didn't know why he said it. He didn't want to look at Ted's things, much less touch them, but he kept saying things he didn't know he was going to say. He surprised himself with half the things that came out of his mouth.

Liz turned to him quickly, taking him by the shoulders again and giving him a little shake. "No," she said harshly, and Jess had no idea why she was angry. He didn't understand anything. He was so stupid. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, digging her thumbs into his arms. "You can't be here. I promise you that everything will be OK, Jess, sweetie. I'm gonna take care of everything. But," she paused to breathe slowly, deeply, "he's picking up his stuff. Don't worry," she rushed on when he took in a deep, jagged breath, "he won't be here until I call him, but that's why you have to get out of the apartment. I never want you to have to see him again."

Jess' focus was fading. He was going to be here? Why couldn't Liz just sell his stuff? Throw it away? Set it on fire? Ted left the night he confessed, and Jess hadn't seen him or heard from him, and Jess was finally convincing himself that he was just gone. Vanished, fucked off, didn't exist. It made getting through the day more bearable if he didn't spend it in constant fear that Ted would materialize at any moment. He didn't realize he was cradling his head in his hands until Liz lifted his chin to catch his eye.

"I'm so sorry, baby," she said, and now she was starting to cry again, "and I know it doesn't make a lot of sense, but please trust me that he'll never be back after that. I have a plan. He won't hurt us ever, ever, ever again."

Jess was only half listening to her. _He won't be here until I call him_, she'd said, and he wondered if some of the hushed phone conversations she'd had in the last week had been with Ted, and not her work. He felt sick - cold and sweaty at the same time. It wasn't that he didn't believe Liz, not exactly, although her word wasn't the most reliable thing in the world. He didn't doubt that she would do what she could to get rid of Ted, but how could she keep him from coming back? It was his apartment, and she was no match for him physically. She was small, like a pixie, Ted used to say, and Ted was so strong.

He pushed her hands away and got up from the bed, ducking below it to pull out his shoes. Liz leaned over the edge to look at him. "You don't have to go now," she said softly. "I still have to pack up most of his stuff." Jess just shook his head. He had to get out of the apartment. "Sweetie," she sighed as he stuffed his feet into his shoes. He didn't look up. "Jess," she said more firmly. He paused and looked at her askance. "I haven't done my best at being a mom, I know." Jess just barely kept from rolling his eyes. "And I can't promise you anything, except that he will never come back. I will do everything I can to make sure of it. I don't want you to go out there until you know that." He held her gaze and nodded. He didn't believe her.

Liz cracked a small smile. "OK," she said. "Things will get better after this, Jess. They can only get better." She stood, touching a hand to the top of his head on her way out.

Jess stared at his shoelaces as fear curled chilly hands around him. He was a coward. There was a chance Ted might try to do something to Liz, and Jess was going to leave anyway. He could picture coming back to the apartment, slowly opening the door, and Ted leaning down for him, circling fingers around his wrist. Jess didn't know if he'd be able to make himself actually come back to the apartment.

Jess stepped out of his room cautiously. Liz had a small pile of Ted's things already stacked in the corner of the living room. He noticed the sheet and extra pillows on the couch but flicked his eyes away from it immediately. He knew Liz hadn't been sleeping in her bedroom. He could understand why, but she didn't know that the couch was more poisonous than the bed she used to share with Ted.

The thought Liz's bedding on the sofa made him pause as he was heading out. He leaned back into the apartment, studying the couch. He hadn't touched it since the morning he'd curled up with Liz, hadn't looked directly at it. He swallowed shallowly, feeling his lungs tighten.

Then Ted was there, Ted pressing a hand over his eyes and all Jess could see were pinkish lines of light between his fingers and Ted's breath was on his neck and his voice in his ear, and all of Jess' strength in both arms wasn't enough to dislodge Ted's hand, not even to make it move a little. Ted was immoveable, was stone, and Jess was air, water, nothing.

He was going to yell when the vision disappeared and he was back in the apartment, fingers gripping the doorknob tightly and he was staring at an old, worn couch. Liz was preoccupied with her own thoughts and didn't notice his trembling hesitation.

"Mom?" he asked when he found his voice.

She looked up, hugging her arms to her chest. "Yes, honey?"

"Could you get rid of the couch?"

Liz recoiled, touching a hand to her mouth and looking like she was going to puke. She swiveled her head slowly to look at the couch, comprehension dawning on her, and she took a step away from it. She turned back to him and nodded, biting her lips. "Of course, Jess. Yeah, baby, of course I'll get rid of it."

"Thanks." He stepped out the door.

"Jess?" Liz called. He leaned back inside. She was crying again, hands pressed to her cheeks and her elbows tucked tight against her ribcage. "I'm so sorry. I'll fix this, I promise."

Jess ducked his head, unable to meet her eyes, and pulled the door shut behind him.

* * *

Their room in the inn was east-facing, so the early morning light was leaking through the curtains and spilling over the foot of Luke's bed. Luke supposed it should have stirred some sort of poetic emotions in him, but he thought it looked cold and it hurt his eyes.

He always woke up early, and today he'd been up since before dawn, although he didn't think he'd slept much. He couldn't remember sleeping, anyway, not last night or the night before, but everything was passing in such a long, agonizing haze that he couldn't be sure. He thought he read once that people started to go crazy if they went too long without REM sleep, and it was tempting to think that maybe he already had, and everything that happened over the last couple of days was a hallucination. But that brought into question why, if nothing horrible had happened, he hadn't been sleeping in the first place. It pissed Luke off a little that he felt like he was losing his mind but was still logical enough to know that he wasn't.

He hadn't talked to Jess about the attack, not once, and he was worried that if he didn't soon, he never would. There was some appeal in avoiding it forever, but he knew that wasn't a possibility. Jess was so far away, was slipping or gone already and Luke knew, acutely and urgently, that confronting the issue was the only hand he could throw to his nephew to pull him back in.

The only problem was that he was terrified. He didn't know what he was doing and he was at a complete loss to figure out even how to _begin_ helping Jess. Every time he tried to envision talking to him, his mind went entirely blank. He was unused to being a parental figure to anyone, he struggled even with basic things like getting Jess to tell him where he was going when he left the apartment. And there wasn't anyone he could share the weight of guardianship with. He'd known, even before he talked to Liz, that she wouldn't be much support, but he hadn't conceived that she wouldn't offer _any_. He still couldn't believe she wasn't here. Even after that message she left on his motherfucking _answering machine_, he'd held out a small hope that she would show up. But he'd called her early Wednesday morning and now it was Friday and there was no sign of her. Even with the worst kind of traffic, it didn't take that long to get from New York to Stars Hollow. Of course, if she'd made any other attempts at communicating, there was no way for Luke to know, because he hadn't been at the diner and he no longer had a functional answering machine.

He hadn't talked to Jess about Liz, either. There wasn't any good way he could think to phrase, _So, Jess, that mother of yours is pretty neglectful_, apart from which, Luke wanted to protect Jess from having to know that Liz wasn't coming, that she knew, and had known, and didn't do anything. It was probably naïve of him to think Jess wasn't disillusioned already – Luke remembered what Lorelai said when he had been falsely triumphant over keeping Jess ignorant of Liz's failure to invite him home for the Winter break: _he knows_. Luke hoped it wasn't true. Even if it meant that Jess would ultimately be disappointed, Luke wished his nephew didn't _know_ that Liz wouldn't be there for him. He felt a familiar burn of anger at the back of his throat and shook his head. He refused to get caught up in that right now. He was tired of being worried and afraid, of his exhaustion, of thinking too much, but especially of being angry with Liz. It didn't do him any good, and it hurt with the deep ache of an old wound.

For the past two days, Luke had felt like he was in a holding pattern, waiting for some signal from Jess or God or the universe that it was the appropriate time to broach the subject. The way he imagined it, the knowledge would come on him with the clarity of the clouds parting and opening a beam of light on his head, declaring, _here is the time, Luke Danes, to talk to your nephew about his horrible life_, and he would have the sagacity to do it properly, in the way Jess needed, instead of in the stupid, stuttering way Luke usually handled important conversations.

_Today_, Luke determined. It had to be today. If he put it off for one more day, then he would for another and another until Jess was back in school and Luke was back at the diner and they both fell into familiar patterns that would allow Luke to convince himself that things were normal.

Jess was asleep, or pretending to be. He was curled up, facing away from Luke, tucked so tightly into himself that he looked much smaller than he was. Luke supposed that could be his mind playing tricks on him – he was sure that his vision was fuzzier than it used to be, like his eyes were permanently crusted with a lack of sleep or the tears he always felt like he was shedding. He kept touching his face, expecting it to be wet, but his fingers came away dry. He knew he was addled, though, because sometimes when he looked at Jess he was convinced he was seeing a much younger boy.

Jess' ribcage rose and fell regularly, deeply, but Luke got the feeling Jess was awake. He'd faked Luke out yesterday - pretended to be dead asleep until Luke got up to shower, and then left the room. Jess had stayed out for the better part of the day, and Luke couldn't be sure if Jess was avoiding Luke specifically or people in general. The more time passed, the more Jess seemed to draw inward, and the press of anxiety that Luke felt about needing to talk to his nephew increased.

Luke approached Jess' bed with caution. "Jess?" he called softly. "I don't believe that you're asleep, come on."

Jess stirred and Luke heard a soft, sharp intake of breath and stepped closer. The floorboard creaked as Jess was turning over, and all of a sudden he was sitting straight up, eyes wide, arms up to attack or shield himself, Luke didn't know. Luke held up his hands, palms out, and rocked back, leaning away from Jess. OK, so maybe he had been asleep.

Jess panted, looking around him blindly. He blinked a couple of times, and Luke saw recognition dawn on him as he stared at Luke. Jess squeezed his eyes shut, shoulders slumping. "Fuck, Luke," he whispered. He flopped onto his back, cupping his hands over his face. "Fuck."

Luke held his position, empty hands suspended in the air, watching Jess. He just lay there, breathing deeply, eyes covered. His sleeves had pulled away from his wrists, exposing the bandages Luke hated with a dark intensity. He didn't know if it would be worse to have to see those or the wounds. Slowly, Luke let his arms drop to his sides.

"Jess?" he tried again after a long moment of silence. Jess didn't respond. "I'm sorry."

Jess snorted and slid his hands into his hair, gripping tight fistfuls. He craned his neck awkwardly to look at the clock on the nightstand and closed his eyes again. "Shit, I _just_ fell asleep," he muttered.

"Sorry," Luke repeated. Jess shook his head.

"What is it?" he asked dully.

"Huh?"

Jess turned his head a fraction to stare at Luke. "Please tell me you had a reason for waking me up like that. Or were you just bored?" He shifted his attention to the ceiling, sighing and rubbing his eyes.

He could do it right now. He could sit down on Jess' bed and say, _Jess, we need to talk about this_ or _You can tell me everything, please, tell me everything. _And he could put his arms around Jess and soak it all up into his veins, cup the back of his head in his hand and hold him.

But he opened his mouth and what came out was, "We need to go apartment hunting." They did – Luke was almost as anxious about that as anything. Being displaced from his little apartment above the diner sent little shivers of panic through him whenever he thought about it.

Jess arched an eyebrow. He looked at the clock pointedly and then back at Luke. "Now?"

"Ah." Luke scratched his neck. "No, later. Today. After we both get ready, of course."

Jess closed his eyes again and nodded. "Great."

"I'm going to go shower," Luke said. Babbling seemed to be his default mode lately..

Jess jerked his head, glaring at him. "Have. Fun."

Luke pointed a finger at him, annoyed. "Don't you leave while I'm in there."

"What?"

"Like you did yesterday. Very cute, pretending to be asleep and then sneaking out."

"Fine," he sighed. "I won't leave."

"Good." Luke put his hands on his hips and nodded. "Good."

He showered quickly, expecting and hoping Jess would be asleep again by the time he got out, but as soon as he left the bathroom, Jess was pushing past him to get in, not saying a word to Luke or looking him in the eye.

Luke waited until he heard the shower running to sit on his bed, close to the nightstand, and try to set his thoughts in order. During the process of discharging Jess, the nurse had taken Luke aside again to give him a run-down on Jess' health and things he should watch out for, although, this time, it included a laundry list of mental and emotional problems. He remembered hearing the word "dissociative," maybe, and he couldn't remember in what context, but all of it sounded horrible. This was way beyond him. He'd known that. He understood, he felt it in his gut, in his fingertips, that he couldn't do this. But the more he found out, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he was only beginning to understand just_ how_ inadequate he was to help Jess.

He pulled open the drawer of the bedside table with one finger, cautiously. Jess must not use it at all, because the contents were undisturbed from the last time Luke looked, and he couldn't imagine Jess taking it very well if he'd seen what was in there**.**

There was a pamphlet. The nurse had given him a pamphlet and at the time, he had just taken it with sincere thanks, without looking at it or comprehending what it was. He read it later that night when he was alone in the room, while Lorelai was looking for Jess. The cover was simple – it looked like the silhouettes of two people, one with their arms around the other. _You aren't alone_, it read in a loose, soothing script.

"Eugh," Luke had muttered. At the time, he hadn't wanted to deal with the pamphlet, its contents or implications, so he put it in the nightstand drawer and tried to forget about it. He pulled it out now, feeling the same uneasiness about it as he did before. He sighed and rubbed his face vigorously with one hand, dragging down the skin under his eyes in an effort to make himself focus.

Luke held it away from his body and squinted, scrutinizing. He flipped it open. _Common misconceptions about male rape_ was on the opening flap, and Luke felt his face get hot. Whenever he came across that word, he felt like someone was reaching a hand into his brain and jostling him around, and the doctor and nurse had used it so casually. It wasn't something Luke had ever needed to worry about, and it seemed to him the sort of thing people should only say in hushed, serious tones. He kicked himself mentally. It was something he was going to have to learn how to hear without recoiling, that maybe someday he could even _say_.

He skipped the first part for the time being, promising himself that he would come back to it later. He skimmed the rest, which seemed to list some of the potential problems the nurse had warned him about, and encouragement that recovery was possible. At the very bottom, he saw the following phrase:_Seek help_. He snorted.

"You don't have to tell me," he muttered. He turned the pamphlet over, where the nurse had written down the information of clinics in the area. _Call me if you have any further questions_ was handwritten at the bottom, followed by a phone number and signed _Priscilla_. The nurse. Luke sighed. He wanted to make fun of the whole thing - ha ha psychology, what a crock of shit, and isn't this pamphlet so stupid – but he was immediately ashamed of himself for the urge. Luke was grateful for the offer of help.

He was contemplating giving the nurse a call when he heard the bathroom door open. Luke had been so lost in his thoughts he hadn't heard the shower turn off. He stood up quickly, stuffing the pamphlet in his back pocket.

"Hey!" he said, voice unnaturally cheerful, as Jess stepped out of the bathroom. He stopped and lifted a suspicious eyebrow at Luke.

"Apartments! Let's go!" Luke announced, gesturing to the door. Jess rolled his eyes and grabbed his coat, pulling his arms through the sleeves as he muttered about his crazy uncle. It was almost comforting to hear – it was the way Luke would have expected Jess to act before all this happened, and he was reminded again that he was utterly clueless about what was going on in Jess' head.

On the way out, Luke stopped by the front desk briefly to see Lorelai. He was tempted to invite her along. Being close to her calmed him, and even though he hadn't asked her for any more favors since she'd helped him pack up some things at the apartment, just knowing she was there and willing to help sent a wave of relief through him so intense it was almost painful. What ultimately kept him from asking her to go apartment hunting with them was the knowledge that she would say yes. Whatever she was doing, she would drop it if she thought it would help them. It was unfair to rely on her too heavily when it wasn't her burden to bear. For now, it was enough to remind himself that she was there, that she knew, that someone who cared deeply for them understood what was happening.

The first place they checked out was on the far edge of town, a bit farther from the diner than Luke would like, ultimately, but for now he still didn't want to be too close to the diner, go inside it, look at it, or think about it. He didn't know when he'd open it up again. He didn't know when he'd have Jess go back to school. Monday seemed too soon – in fact, just about any time seemed too soon. Luke felt an enormous distance between himself and what his life used to be. It was surreal to imagine going back to it, just picking up where he'd left off. That was something he could deal with in time, he supposed. The pressing matter was getting a new place to live. They couldn't leech off of Lorelai's kindness much longer, and Luke was a homebody. He wanted a new place, somewhere to put his few possessions and call his own.

Jess walked haphazard loops around the apartment, scanning it from floor to ceiling with casual appraisal, apparently disinterested in what their guide, a tiny, cheerful woman with big eyes and a bigger smile, was saying.

Luke walked up behind him slowly, heavily, just to be sure he didn't startle Jess. "So," he said, rubbing his hands together. "What do you think?"

Jess shrugged. He put his head around the corner, looking into the room just off the hallway.

"That'd be yours," Luke said. "I think. The master's over there." He pointed, even though Jess wasn't looking. "And the bathroom's down there."

Jess turned to him, expression unreadable. He looked into the room again and leaned in, hooking a couple of fingers around the doorknob. He swung it back and forth, checking the hinges. He gave it a pull and stepped away, watching it close slowly. As it clicked into place, he turned his attention back to Luke.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Why, what's wrong?" It wasn't the greatest place he'd ever seen, but, as far as he could tell, it wasn't bad, and it was certainly more room than either one of them had at Luke's old place.

He shrugged a shoulder. "Nothing. It's just, you know, this room has a _door_. The other one does, too. Seemed like it might be a bit ritzy for our tastes."

"Jess," Luke sighed. He didn't have the energy to do this. He hardly had the energy to walk and pay attention to the realtor and function on a very basic level, let alone fend off Jess' sarcasm.

"This is a really big leap," Jess continued, unfazed. "It's like moving from Skid Row to the Taj Mahal. Should I even be wearing my shoes in here?" Luke rubbed a weary hand over his eyes. He wasn't going to fight; he wasn't going to argue. Just let Jess get it out of his system. He'd have to run out of steam eventually. "I'm thinking we should take smaller steps. Maybe we could try a place with a curtain through the middle of the room, or a folding partition."

Jess turned the knob and pushed the door open. "Although I suppose this could be one of those tricks realtors do where they furnish the apartment with things it doesn't actually come with, you know, to make it look more appealing. Hey," he called, leaning around Luke to get the attention of the realtor. "Do these doors come with the apartment?" He pointed at the bedrooms.

Her face froze, fixed with an unnatural smile, as she tried to figure out how to respond. Luke would have felt bad for her if he weren't so exhausted. "I'm sorry?" she said, tilting her head.

"The doors," Jess repeated, drawing the syllables out. "Are they included?"

Her eyebrows dipped and she looked at Luke, expression confused and a little dismayed. He lifted a hand and shook his head. Her eyes flicked back to Jess and her smile widened. "Yes, they are," she replied at last.

Jess raised his eyebrows and whistled. "Swanky," he muttered from the corner of his mouth, pushing past Luke back into the living room. He circled its perimeter, and when he passed by the realtor, she took a deliberate step away from him, shooting Luke a reproachful look. His mouth twisted wryly in response, and, feeling awkward, stuffed his hands in his back pockets. He was surprised to find the pamphlet he'd forgotten was there. Luke's face got hot. Well, _now_ was definitely not the time to talk to Jess, but later.

They left that apartment quickly after, Luke as near as apologetic to their realtor as he could muster the energy to be. Once she realized Luke wasn't going to fill out an application, she stopped being pleasant and glared at Jess until they walked out the door.

That bout of petulance seemed to tap Jess of his energy. They visited at least ten other buildings, and Luke couldn't get anything like a reaction from him in any of them, rewarded at best with mumbles and hunched shoulders. Luke actually would have been grateful for one word, a monosyllable. As it was, he was so distracted watching Jess and not thinking about the pamphlet in his back pocket, its stupid pointy edges poking at him, that he hardly registered any information about the apartments they saw**. **

As they walked around town, Luke noticed the unnatural attention people paid them. He might have been imagining it, but he thought people stared at Jess in particular, and it made him bristle. So far, no one had stopped to ask them questions, but Luke figured it was only a matter of time before small-town nosiness overcame people's respect for privacy. He wanted to walk in front of Jess and glare down all passers-by, daring them to gawk, to cast judgment, to even look at his bruises too closely. It was a strange feeling, this protectiveness, of him against the town, him versus everyone who didn't know, who would never know, who couldn't possibly understand.

Luke matched his pace with Jess' so they walked side by side. As tired and angry and broken as he was, he was beginning to realize that he could be Jess' support, if only because there was no other choice. If it wasn't him, there was no one, and, beyond anything else, Luke wasn't going to let Jess bear this alone.

* * *

Even after Liz got rid of the couch, living in Ted's apartment was a struggle. She never told him exactly what happened that day when Jess left so Ted could pick up his things, but when Jess finally came home, she'd hugged him, smiling the only genuine smile he saw on her all summer. She'd cupped his jaw with her hands, grinning, and kissed him on the nose, and, in spite of himself, he was comforted.

Liz found a twin mattress that was used but clean, and that was pretty much the only furnishing they had in the living room. Liz pushed it flush against the wall and used pillows as a backrest, and the whole set up was more familiar to Jess than Ted's spare, neat decoration had been. It was enough like places they used to live that it was almost a comfort, and Jess could walk through the living room without getting queasy. It didn't fix everything, though. Liz slept on the mattress in the living room instead of her bedroom, and the memory of Ted followed Jess everywhere.

Jess and Liz had been homeless once, briefly. She broke up with a boyfriend – he couldn't remember which one anymore, or why – and they had nowhere to go, and it was one of the rare occasions she didn't call Luke for help. They'd stayed with a friend of Liz's, at least according to Liz, although Jess had never met her before and she certainly never acted friendly to either one of them. Jess understood, in an incomplete way, that people usually took pity on him and his mother because he was young, and he also understood that Liz took advantage of that. She could play delicate and desperate easily, and the more aware he became of her behavior, the more he noticed things like the way she could attract sympathy from total strangers without saying a word to them.

This woman had been different, though. She never talked to him and she hardly even looked at him with more than a dismissive flick of her eye. At the time he couldn't pinpoint what it was about her that unsettled him, but being around her made him itchy and nervous. Her home had been dingy and smelly and he felt dirty just sitting on the furniture, and if she ever did pay attention to him, it was with a cold, dead expression that made him want to crawl under the couch and stay there, even though he knew there were roaches beneath it.

They only stayed at her house for ten days, but Jess hated it for reasons even he couldn't define, and the experience left in him a deep-seated determination to never be in that position again. He used that feeling as a means to weigh whatever living arrangement he and Liz were in at the time, and, until now, any apartment, no matter how small or shitty or who they cohabitated with, was better than the time he'd spent with that woman. Ted's apartment was the exception to that rule.

Liz felt it, too, the weight of Ted's presence. She talked about moving, but she barely had enough money to make rent each month, let alone break the lease, which wasn't up for half a year. She had to get another job to make ends meet, and when she was actually home, she was depressed and exhausted, and Jess couldn't bring himself to press her to shop for a new place. That left Jess alone in the apartment most of the time. It was summer, so Jess didn't even have school to distract him, and he had no urge to read, or do much of anything, so he sat in his room staring at the walls that were so full of memories they wheezed with the effort of keeping them all in.

Jess worried that he was going crazy some of the time. The inside of his head was a murky place, and what Ted had done was a knotty ball of scar tissue that he navigated around cautiously in his mind. He never got too close to it, but he could never pull far enough away from it to forget it was there. It was constantly at the back of his thoughts, at the edges of his vision, making him see things that weren't there. He knew the movement out of the corner of his eye was his imagination; he knew Ted wasn't walking past his bedroom or sitting on the edge of his bed when he woke up in the dark. He knew the soft shuffling sound he heard from the hallway wasn't real, but his awareness of reality didn't stop his mind's distortion of it.

He also had a disconcerting habit of losing time. He'd be in his room or at the kitchen table and blink and all of a sudden he'd be somewhere else – usually just standing when he had been sitting, or maybe in a different room, but he didn't remember getting there. He'd check the clock and it would be much later than it should be. Since Liz worked was almost always and he didn't have any kind of schedule, he would come to himself knowing he had blanked out but unsure of how long he'd been absent and with no way of checking. He was terrified that he was losing entire days, that he was slowly sliding out of reality.

He lasted like that for a few weeks, and it wasn't until August that Jess finally decided to call Luke. Liz talked about Luke like he was a superhero – so strong and brave and good that Jess knew it wasn't true, the way he knew there was no such thing as magic or a happy ending. But he couldn't help idolizing his uncle on some level – not when Liz heaped praise on him and Jess saw him too infrequently to dismantle the illusion. And, even though he had trouble understanding his uncle sometimes, there was a part of him that wanted Luke to be the man Liz said he was.

Jess wasn't planning on telling Luke what happened; he didn't have a plan at all. He just knew they had a terrible problem that needed to be fixed and Luke fixed things. He understood rationally that his reasoning was childish, but he was bordering on his last hopes. _Desperation_, his brain whispered to him in a nasty little voice that made him feel small and guilty.

Luke's number was on a little note on the side of the fridge, labeled "Lancelot." Jess thought it was a funny nickname, although he knew Liz meant it as a knight-in-shining-armor reference, but if she'd wanted to invoke steadfastness and loyalty, she would have been better off with just about any of the other knights of the Round Table. He knew Liz was familiar with the legend of King Arthur – she was unabashedly enamored with the idea of knights and ladies and courtly love, and a few years before she'd given him _Le Morte d'Arthur_ for them to read together.

"That's your Uncle Luke," she'd said when they came to The Noble Tale of Sir Launcelot de Lac, and when she put Luke's number on that note and wrote "Lancelot" above it, she showed Jess, grinning. "Luke!" she chirped, tapping the name at the top.

Jess frowned at it. "But Lancelot betrayed Arthur," he said. "Shouldn't he be Galahad?" After all, Galahad had been the one to survive the Siege Perilous and find the Holy Grail.

Liz snorted and laughed, securing the note to the fridge with a magnet. "Maybe," she said, making a face. "Sometimes he makes me wonder." Jess didn't know what that meant, but Liz seemed to think it was pretty funny. She leaned on the counter and rested her chin on her hand. "But I think Luke fakes all that gruffness. He's a kitten, I know it. He's got a really _romantic_ side under it all."

It was Jess' turn to make a face. He didn't like Galahad that much anyway – he was boring and too good to seem like a real person. "What about Bedivere?" Maybe even Gareth, since he started out as a kitchen boy.

Liz rolled her eyes and sighed. "But I _like_ Lancelot," she said, and he shrugged. He hadn't liked many of the knights in Malory's version, so it didn't really matter.

Now, Jess hoped for anything that might resemble Liz's version of Luke's heroism as he pulled the note from under its magnet on the fridge. The paper crinkled loudly and he glanced around, nervous, even though he knew no one was there to catch him.

He swallowed roughly as he listened to the phone ring. He didn't know what to say, how to ask for help. He didn't even know what he thought Luke would _do_, how he could possibly sweep in and kill Ted's ghost. A panicky voice in his head screamed at him to hang up because this was a crazy, idiotic idea and Luke would be upset. He pictured it as a frenetic stop-motion movie in his head, with Jess whispering _help_ into the phone and Luke demanding _how_? over and over, angrier and louder each time. He was moving to hang up the phone when Luke answered.

"Luke's," he said, gruff and distracted. It sounded like there was a lot of activity in the background.

Jess' throat clicked. "Luke?"

"Yeah?" He sounded curious, and Jess figured he didn't recognize his voice just from one word, not when they hardly ever talked on the phone.

"It's Jess."

"Jess?" He was taken aback by the surprise and confusion in Luke's voice.

"Jess Mariano?" he clarified. "Your nephew."

Luke snorted. "I know who you _are_, Jess, I just wasn't expecting to hear from you. You never call. What's up? Did – did you want to go camping again?"

"Oh," Jess breathed. Camping, Jesus. It didn't make sense for him to expect Luke to know anything was wrong, not when Liz had been adamant about not telling, but for some reason he had been expecting Luke to be aware that – _something_ – wasn't right. It was a stupid assumption to make, he knew, and he was angry with himself for thinking this was a viable idea. "Sure," he said, disoriented and fumbling.

"Great!" Luke didn't sound very enthusiastic, but that was fine. Jess didn't want to fucking go camping. His palms were sweating. "When did you want to go?"

Jess opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"Jess?"

"Ah," he stammered, feeling queasy. He should come up with something, some sort of lie, and get off the phone quickly.

"Jess?" Luke's voice was getting lower, his tone bordering on suspicion.

"I didn't call about camping, Luke," he said in a rush, squeezing his eyes shut. "I – I – "

"Jess," Luke cut in, very calm. "How's your mother?"

Jess' jaw went slack. _What_? In a moment of panicked confusion, he wondered if he had blanked out on some of the conversation. What did Liz have to do with anything?

"She, uh, she's –" he started, but Luke apparently wasn't listening.

"Oh my God," Luke sighed. "I can't believe her. I cannot believe her."

"What?"

"I can't believe she's having _you_ call me for money now."

Jess' vision went a little hazy. He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead and rubbed hard. He was confused and he couldn't catch up with Luke. "Um, she didn't –"

"What is it now?" Luke asked, sounding tired. "What happened to _Ted_?"

Jess froze. It was crazy, hearing Luke speak his name so dismissively, like Ted was just an annoyance. Jess and Liz avoided it as much as possible, and if they did have to say his name, they usually did quietly, in a rush, like it was a curse word. Luke spat it out casually, calmly, and the reality of Luke _not knowing_ hit Jess in his stomach. There was no way to explain it, no way he could get Luke to understand the severity of what was going on, not when he could say _Ted_ like that, like nothing. He was cold all over.

His mouth opened and closed uselessly. "He left," he said at last.

Luke scoffed. "Great," he drawled. "I knew it. What did he do? Run off with all the furniture? Her wedding ring?"

"No," Jess said. He didn't know why he felt so defensive. His fingers clutched at the phone involuntarily. "He's gone. He's just gone." Except that he was always there, sitting just behind Jess' shoulder where he couldn't see.

"This is insane. Is she there?"

"No." She was at work, trying to pull enough money together to get them out of the apartment.

"Well, your mother sure does know how to pick 'em," Luke said. "She really is a piece of work –"

"No she isn't!" Jess was furious so suddenly he didn't even realize how mad he was until he was yelling. "This isn't her fault!"

There was silence on the line for a long moment while Jess breathed heavily, adjusting his sweaty grip on the phone so he didn't drop it. He'd never hated his uncle before, he'd never even considered it a possibility, but he was close now. Liz was working so hard, she was killing herself with work just so they could _move_, and Luke was acting like he was so sick of her. And it wasn't her fault; it was Jess'. It was his fault Ted was gone, his fault she had another shitty job on top of the one she already hated while he sat around the apartment, trembling and useless. He might as well be catatonic for all the good he did.

"Jess," Luke started, but Jess cut him off.

"I'm sorry." He didn't know what he was apologizing for, but he had to bite his lip to keep from saying it again.

"No, don't be. I'm sorry. It's not your fault. I shouldn't have dragged you into this, but Liz shouldn't have, either. What do you need?"

"I don't know," Jess said softly. "I'm sorry." It came out without him realizing he was going to speak that time, and he wanted to stop saying he was sorry to Luke. He wasn't really sorry for anything he'd said. His ears were ringing.

Luke sighed. "Well, have her call me or something, OK? She really shouldn't have –"

Jess felt a little hiccup in his breathing and he knew he was going to cry, so he hung up in the middle of Luke's sentence before he could embarrass himself further. He stared at the phone, holding both hands over his mouth. He wasn't sure how much time passed while he stood there, breathing brokenly into his palms.

_There really isn't anyone else_, he realized. _It's just me and Mom and fuck everyone else._

He was going to try, he decided. He was going to get out of the apartment, help Liz with domestic tasks the way he used to. She would stop having to worry about his sanity as much as he worried about it. He would _make himself_ stop blanking out. Nobody was going to help, and he had to stop being a coward and take care of himself.

Jess got a letter in the mail a week after that phone call. It was from Luke, and it was full of money. He stuffed it back in when he saw it, nauseated with shame. He put it in a new envelope and mailed it back with a note that just said "SORRY," like that, in all capital letters. Jess wouldn't know it, but Luke mailed the money back again, this time addressed to Liz, and she would use it to break the lease at the end of the month. And Luke would never know why Jess called; even years later, when he discovered the truth about Ted, he never connected it to the strange phone call he got from his nephew. Whenever he remembered it, he simply thought of it as the time Liz tried to use Jess to guilt money out of him.

* * *

They got back to the inn late in the afternoon, and the door was barely shut behind them when Luke decided it was time to confront Jess.

"We need to talk," he said, words all slurring together in a nervous mush.

Jess sighed, sitting heavily on his bed and rubbing his eyes with one hand. "Luke, I don't care," he said. "Pick whatever goddamn apartment you want."

"Not the apartment." Jess' fingers stopped moving, but he left his hand where it was, shielding his eyes. His entire body was still. Luke approached slowly. He considered sitting next to his nephew, but opted instead to take the spot across from him, on his own bed. He exhaled loudly, wearily, resting his elbows on his knees.

Jess seemed to be frozen in place. Maybe he was waiting for Luke to continue, or maybe he was thinking he could ignore Luke until he went away, but not a muscle in his body moved. Luke wasn't even sure if he was breathing. He could easily just start talking, but he wanted Jess to look at him. Luke felt like he and Jess hadn't really looked at each other since the attack.

"Jess," he said quietly. Jess lowered his hand and looked up at Luke, mouth set in a tight line and brows drawn sharply together. Luke opened his mouth and then closed it again. He didn't know what to say, what to ask.

"How's your head?" God _damn_ it. Luke was getting really sick of all the dumb shit that fell out of his mouth every time he opened it to speak.

Jess' eyebrows shot up. "Peachy."

"How -" he cut himself off and sighed, running his hands down his face. Luke held open his hands and clapped them together. "How can I help you?" So that was probably a stupid question, but Luke couldn't think of any questions that _weren't_ stupid, and, what the hell, at least it might get them talking.

Jess snorted derisively, craning his neck back to look at the ceiling. "Aww, shit, Luke."

"What? I'll do whatever I can." It sounded cheesy, false, useless. "Even if it's just getting you to someone you _can _talk to – maybe a therapist, or, I don't know, maybe the school has a -"

Jess stood suddenly and Luke pulled back, surprised at the fury on his nephew's face.

"No," he said, curling his lips around the word like he was spitting out a bad taste.

Luke tapped his fingers on his knees. He'd known this wasn't going to be easy, but that wasn't much of a comfort now. At least Jess was finally showing some emotion. "Why not?"

Jess scoffed. "Luke, I'm not going into therapy."

It probably wasn't the best idea to be sarcastic, but Luke couldn't quite help himself. "What, you think you're so well-adjusted you don't need it?"

Jess' jaw clenched. He huffed and scratched angrily at the back of his head with both hands, then laced his fingers together against his neck. He dropped his chin to his chest and took a few deep breaths. "Look," he said, voice muffled. "It's no big deal. It – it wasn't as bad as it looked."

Luke blinked. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He stood slowly, staring hard at Jess, who let his arms flop down to his sides and gave Luke and insolent look.

"What? Jess, are you kidding me? Not as bad as it looked? It _looked_ like a fucking nightmare!" Was Jess trying to deny that anything had happened, or simply saying that whatever happened _wasn't that bad_?

Jess turned his head to the side. "Yeah, well…" His jaw worked, but he couldn't get the words out.

"Well, _what_?" Luke was only dimly aware of how angry he was. He didn't know what or who he was mad at, though, he was just _furious_. Jess paced away from him and ran shaky hands through his hair.

"Jess!" He didn't turn around, and Luke realized something with growing horror. "Wait," he said, and he noticed that his fingers were shaking as he lifted his hand to put it on Jess' shoulder. "What did you tell the police?"

Jess whipped around, shaking Luke's hand off his arm angrily. "What?"

"You gave them a statement. What the hell did you tell them?" Jess didn't move. "Did you tell _them_ it _wasn't bad_?"

"It's none of your business."

"Like hell it's none of my business!" Luke was so pissed off that the periphery of his vision was actually getting blurry. What if the kid was so fucking stupid that he told the police that nothing happened? Oh, God. He should have stayed in the room. He should have given his statement to the police. Maybe he still could.

"Oh, right," Jess said mockingly. "I forgot that if they don't give Ted the death penalty, you're gonna go on a murderous rampage in the name of justice."

This wasn't happening. "Fuck justice, Jess! There aren't enough terrible things I could do to that man to serve justice, but I can think of plenty of ways to kill him slowly just to ease my mind, and I don't give a shit what the law has to say about that. I just thought you might actually be smart enough to realize that if he _doesn't _go to prison, he'd be free to do the same thing to you again!"

Jess ducked his head, breathing deeply. He looked up at Luke and glanced away to the wall. "Well, don't worry about getting your hands dirty. He'll go to jail."

"Guarantee me that, Jess. You look at me and promise me you told the police the truth."

The muscles in Jess' jaw worked rapidly. "Look, who _cares_? It's over, it's done, let's move on!"

"Move on? We have to deal with this!"

"Deal with what?" Jess ground out. "There's nothing to deal with, there's nothing to fix! You _can't_ fix it, OK?" Luke took a step forward, about to speak, but Jess cut him off. "And," he said, voice rising, "if anyone in that goddamn school hears a _word_ about this, I'm never setting foot in there again."

"Jess -"

"No!"

Luke realized, in a detached way, that he was angry beyond the point of rationality, beyond the point of reasoning and being a comfort or doing any of the things he originally set out to do. He pointed a commanding finger at Jess.

"You have to go to school." It wasn't even the point, it was so far beside the point, but Luke was ready to argue anything, and this was something he was prepared to fight about.

"No I don't."

"Yes you do! Even if you don't give a shit about your future, _I _do." Jess rolled his eyes and Luke knew he was yelling so loud people in neighboring rooms could probably hear them, but he was so tired and the only thing that was keeping him going was the last of his adrenaline, burning at the back of his eyes. "It was part of our agreement. If you want to stay -"

"Oh, _what_, living with you?" Jess sneered. "Like I had a fucking _choice_, Luke! Like I _want _to be here so goddamn bad! You think it's some sort of privilege I have to work for? So, what, I stop going to school and you kick me out?" He spread his arms wide. "_Fine_." Jess jabbed a finger at his duffel, propped up against the foot of his bed. "I'm already fucking _packed_."

The threat sent a jolt of fear through Luke that snapped his jaw open to chide, "And go _where_?" He almost added, _tough guy_, but a small part of him that was kinder and wiser than the rest kept him from insulting Jess' masculinity.

"Like you care."

"Don't you give me that! You know that's bullshit! I am the one pulling for you, Jess, _I _actually give a damn what happens to you!"

"You didn't have a choice, either!"

Luke took a step back, hands on his hips. "What?"

"You never tell her no. I don't know _why_, but Lizzie asks her big strong hero Luke for help, and you always give in. You _bitch_ about it to no end, but you always do it. 'I need money,' 'I need you to help me with the fucking collection agent,' 'I need you to take my worthless son off my hands.'" Jess' voice was so loud it was making the walls ring. "But it's not like you were killing yourself caring about what the fuck happened to me before she dumped me on you."

Luke's lungs were tight and raw. "That's not true," he said quietly.

"Whatever." Jess turned away and then spun back, heading for the door. "I'm going."

"No, we're not done here." He stepped in Jess' path.

"You are not honestly blocking me in." They stared at each other, unflinching. Luke didn't want to resort to physical restraint, and, if it got down to it, he didn't know if he could bring himself to overpower his nephew. But as bad as that would be, he was afraid of Jess walking out this angry. Even though he hadn't made a move to take his duffel, even though Luke knew the threat to leave was empty, he was terrified that if Jess walked out the door, he wouldn't come back. He hoped, casting the prayer upward at heaven, at whatever, that Jess wouldn't try to force his way past.

"Get out of my way," he rasped.

"No. We're discussing this."

"Luke!" Jess cried, voice cracking. "How many times can I say it? There's nothing to save! It's _too late_. It's done. Get over it!"

"What, you want to pretend like nothing happened? Never talk about it, never do anything?"

"Sounds great," he said, lifting his eyebrows. "Perfect, actually."

"Why don't you want to give it a chance?"

Jess' forehead furrowed in confusion. "What – _therapy_? Luke, jeez." He tossed his hands in the air.

"Oh, you know it's a waste of time? You've had so many bad experiences with it before?" He reached in his back pocket and pulled out the pamphlet from the hospital. Jess stared at it, eyes scanning the print on it quickly. His face seemed to clear of any expression. He looked up at Luke.

"You have to be kidding me."

Luke felt vaguely embarrassed. Every time he even thought about the dumb pamphlet, he could feel his cheeks burning. "I know it looks stupid – who makes a _pamphlet_ about something like this, but –"

"No!" Jess grabbed it from his hand. "Fuck this!"

Luke sighed. "Jess, come on."

"'Come on'? That's your big persuasive argument? No, Luke. _No_." He held the pamphlet in the air, and Luke noticed that it shook with tiny quick reverberations. Jess must be trembling. "You know what you can do with this? Shove it up your ass."

"_Jess_."

"What do you want me to do, demonstrate _how_? I've had some practice."

Luke's throat was dry. His perception of the room seemed to twist, warp, spin, and the quiet around them was so loud. His breathing roared in his ears. The words ran circles around his mind, leaving a trail of vicious chattering echoes and Luke reeled under the din of it. All of his energy was gone, draining out of his body through the soles of his feet into the floor. He felt like a husk, withered and old.

"Jess." He couldn't think of anything else to say. Jess stood before him, still holding the pamphlet out, wide-eyed and tight-lipped. He took a step toward his nephew.

Jess backed away. He threw the pamphlet on Luke's bed and pressed his hands to his temples. "Luke, let me leave," he said raggedly.

"You're coming back," Luke said, not a question but not commanding. Jess raised his eyes tentatively, meeting Luke's gaze with open confusion. He looked so raw and young and hurt that Luke had to hold himself back from embracing him. Luke's instincts weren't perfect, but he knew a gesture that intimate right now would drive Jess further away.

"You're coming back," Luke repeated. "I need to change the bandages on your wrists." Jess' eyebrows drew together and he glanced down at his hands. "And you're going to go to school. I don't know what I'll do if you drop out, but you just better not. I'm not letting you fall through the cracks, Jess. If you try to leave, I will hunt you down and bring you back. I'm not giving up on you."

Jess' head remained bowed. Luke could hear his breathing, shallow and harsh, and he took a small step closer. Jess moved quickly, bumping into Luke's shoulder as he went for the door. Luke watched but made no move to stop him, and Jess paused when he was halfway out.

He turned to Luke but kept his eyes on the floor. He glanced up once, briefly, and his fingers twitched around the doorknob. When he spoke it was so quiet Luke almost didn't hear him.

"I'm coming back," Jess muttered, and closed the door firmly behind him.

to be continued


	6. Chapter 6

**notes: **Just... for clarification, I'm writing Season 2 Ceasar. You know. Tall Ceasar. He's got a small scene here, and, I don't know, the tall, serious Ceasar seemed like a better fit for this story than his shorter, zany replacement in later seasons. Also, and again - and I can't say it enough - thank you for the support and feedback. Thank you. Thanks especially to my beta, Jessica, and to Prisc.

* * *

**(six)**

By the time Jess came back, they were both too tired to do anything. Luke was sitting on his bed; his elbows resting on his knees, head resting in his hands. He heard the door creak and slide open but he was too heavy to move. He looked at Jess out of the corner of his eye. Jess kicked off his shoes and pushed the door shut with one finger, watching it close until the latch clicked in place.

Jess took off his coat and tossed it on top of his duffel, sitting on the edge of his bed with a harsh sigh. Luke lifted his head**, **feeling a little dizzy from moving too quickly after staying in one position for a long time.

"Jess."

Jess shook his head. "Nope." Well, fine. Luke was too tired to talk anyway. He was just glad that Jess had returned. Logically, he had to come back, but it was still a relief, and Luke was glad to feel something like a positive emotion**. **He stood slowly, achingly, andlocked the he turned back, Jess was getting under the covers, fully clothed. He tucked the sheets around his neck and pressed his face into the pillow, his back to Luke. Luke sighed.

"I'm changing your bandages in the morning."

"Whee." Jess grunted.

"And this isn't done." That got no reaction. "Don't think I'm going to stop bringing it up." Jess shifted, pulling the sheets higher and settling deeper into his pillow.

Luke felt a vague desire to stomp over to Jess' bed, take him by the shoulders and shake him until he understood. Instead, he shuffled to his own bed and got under the covers. He was glad that he had changed into his pajamas while Jess was gone, or he would have been tempted to fall asleep fully clothed like Jess had. Luke turned his head to look at Jess' back. "Get some sleep," he said softly. Jess' shoulder rolled in its socket, but he made no other acknowledgement that Luke had spoken.

Luke let him sleep late – or pretend to sleep late – but he was ready for Jess when he tried to roll out of bed. Luke was perched on his own bed, supplies in hand. Jess sat up, rubbing his eyes, and stopped when he saw the gauze Luke had prepared. He gave Luke a look of tired exasperation.

"Park it," Luke commanded, even though Jess hadn't made a move to leave. Jess sighed and swung his feet to the floor. He hiked his sleeves up to his elbows and held his wrists out under Luke's nose, already impatient.

Luke unwrapped the bandage slowly, his lungs hot and tight. His heart beat heavily as he pulled it away from Jess' skin, convinced that when he revealed the wounds they would be deep, painful gashes spanning the length of Jess' veins. He envisioned the gauze peeling scabs off with it, reopening the cuts so they spilled down Jess' wrists, over Luke's fingers to his hands and onto the carpet.

All that was there, though, was raw, red skin, and cuts that were already healing. Luke let out a sharp sigh of relief, but the sight of the actual damage called up an onslaught of images from the night of the attack. The panic he'd felt as he fumbled at the belt around Jess' wrists poured down his spine and he shivered. As he applied salve to Jess' wrists with shaking fingers, he could feel the leather of the belt beneath his hands again, could see the smears of blood peeking out from under its edges. He wrapped Jess' wrists again quickly, breathing raggedly and worrying that he might be on the brink of hyperventilating.

After he taped the last bandage, he looped his fingers around Jess' wrists. He held them as loosely as possible, unsure how sore his skin was. Jess pulled against Luke's hold, but Luke didn't register the resistance right away and didn't let go, not until Jess yanked down, breaking Luke's grip. He looked up at Jess, but Jess was staring down at his hands, now resting in his lap.

Luke raised his hand, unthinking, and rested it on Jess' shoulder. Jess met his gaze, but his eyes were hard and closed off and Luke couldn't read anything in them. He felt impossibly heavy for being so empty. His thoughts all slurred together in a mess of confusion and anger and hurt, and he didn't care anymore what Jess did if Luke tried to hold him, because he felt like he should have done it already – at the hospital, when Jess sent him out of the room, he should have stayed and held him. Back at the apartment, even, when he first saw Jess on the floor, he should have taken him in his arms. He should still be holding him now because he hadn't let go from that time to this.

Luke squeezed Jess' shoulder and lifted his hand to Jess' face, cupping his jaw. He wanted to talk, but even blinking was difficult at the moment, and Luke's thoughts were worn down into vague impressions of emotion. Luke hated that he knew there were so many important things to say but he couldn't even form them coherently in his mind, let alone speak them out loud. All he could do was tap Jess' cheek lightly with his thumb.

Jess' expression didn't change, but he shook his head. Luke didn't know what he was saying "no" to – Luke's attempts to help or just Luke himself, but it made his heart splinter. Slowly, achingly slowly, he raised his free hand and used it to hold the other side of Jess' head, whether to stop him from shaking it in denial or to get closer to actually embracing him, Luke wasn't sure. Jess shook his head again, harder, and reached up to move Luke's hands away.

Just as Luke was opening his mouth to say something, anything, there was a knock on the door. Luke dropped his arms and sat up straight, and he could see Jess tug on the sleeves of his shirt out of the corner of his eye.

Luke stood stiffly, already irritated with whoever it was, although he could only guess it was Lorelai. As far as he knew, no one else was even aware where exactly he and Jess were – he figured it was inevitable that word had gotten out that they were at the inn, but not which room. He sort of hoped it was a member of the inn staff so he could send them away without feeling guilty. He didn't want to see anyone just now, not even Lorelai.

He opened the door, however, to Rory. He was so surprised he took a step back to steady himself. "Oh," he said. "Hey."

She was wearing jeans and a sweater, and she was clutching the handle of a shopping bag filled with something heavy, from the way she was carrying it. "Hey, Luke," she replied, smiling nervously. Luke heard Jess shift behind him at the sound of her voice, and Luke turned to look at him. Jess was staring at Luke, eyes wide and mouth grim, and Luke felt like Jess was trying to tell him something but he couldn't figure out what. He remembered the hospital room, and Jess' expression as he asked Lorelai not to tell, and his stomach dropped.

Flustered, he turned back to Rory. "Hey, so. Rory!" He held his arms out and dropped them, whacking his thighs. "What are you doing here?"

She shot him a distressed look and dropped her gaze to the floor, releasing her hold on the bag with one hand briefly to tuck hair behind her ear. "Oh, I, sorry, I -"

"No," Luke cut in quickly. While he honestly didn't want Rory there, he also didn't want her to get that impression. "I mean, uh, shouldn't you be in school?"

"Oh." Rory's brow furrowed minutely and she shifted her weight. "It's Saturday."

Luke blinked at her. "Right. Yes, yes it is." He flattened his palms against the small of his back and nodded. Saturday.

"So." Rory swung the bag gently, banging it off her knees. "Are you all right?" She leaned a little to look around Luke at Jess, and Luke's insides clenched. He wanted to sidestep in front of her to shield Jess from her view. "Both of you?" She straightened, nervous, and her eyes darted between Luke and Jess.

"I'm fine," Luke said, his voice far too loud. "He -" he pointed over his shoulder in Jess' general direction, "he's got a head thing." He made a so-so gesture with his hand.

"Concussion. I heard," Rory said, biting her lip. "Are – is it – bad?"

"Nope." Luke was surprised to hear Jess' voice, and he turned to see that Jess was standing by the foot of his bed, his hands stuffed deeply into his pockets. He was looking at Rory, his expression blank.

"Oh," she breathed. Luke looked back and forth between them, each focused on the other. Rory was shifting nervously from foot to foot and Jess was totally still, save his jaw muscles clenching.

"Hey**!" **Rory startled at Luke's interjection. "What's in the bag?"

"Huh?" Luke pointed to the bag she was holding and she glanced down, blushing. "Oh, right!" she said, opening the handles and peering inside. "Books! It's why I came here, really, um. Mom said – a couple days ago – that you might want some books? Jess, I mean. Although, Luke, if you wanted, you could read some, too?"

Luke shook his head. "That doesn't sound appealing." God, he meant for that to come out better.

Rory reached into the bag. "Oh, well, there are a lot here, though. I pretty much cleared off my shelves because I didn't know what you've already read. I should have asked, I guess." She looked up at Jess, who hadn't moved, and lowered her head again, stammering. "And – um – so I'm sorry if there's nothing new here, but you can write in them, if you really want to. I didn't bring a pen – do you have a pen?" She pulled out a worn-looking hardback novel and paused to roll her eyes at herself. "Well, of _course_ there's a pen in here; it's an inn, there are always pens. By the note pads by the phones, for taking notes. I knew that."

Rory stopped and pressed her lips together, holding the book up. "But you can't write in this one," she said, her words tripping over each other. "I'll actually have to kill you."

Jess snorted softly, but Luke couldn't tell if it was derisive or amused. His expression hadn't changed at all. "OK," he said coolly. "Thanks."

He made no move to take his hands out of his pockets or reach for the bag and Rory looked increasingly embarrassed. Luke felt horribly awkward, and felt a crazy urge to lift his arms over his head and yell just to break the tension. What had Lorelai been thinking, telling Rory to bring Jess books? Rory dropped the novel back into the bag and bent her head.

"Thanks, Rory," Luke said, putting out his hand to take the bag from her.

"Oh." She passed it to him, and when she let go he could see the impressions the pressure from the handles had left on her palms. The bag was pretty heavy. With nothing to hold, Rory pulled her hands into her sleeves and crossed her arms over her chest, tucking her hands practically into her armpits.

"I'm sorry if I bothered you," she said quietly. She directed it at Luke, but her eyes kept flicking over to Jess.

"No bother," Luke lied.

Rory stubbed her toe against the floor. "Jess," she said, sounding like she was being very brave, "are you really all right?" He pulled back a little, his expression faltering for the first time that Luke had seen. He blinked, confused, and dropped his head. Luke saw his arm move like he was going to take his hand out of his pocket and he felt a moment of panic that Jess' bandages would be exposed, but Jess seemed to recall it on his own and stuffed his hand in deeper.

Rory moved a step closer and opened her mouth to speak again, but her face fell. "Oh," she whispered, and Luke realized she had just seen the bruises on his face. She touched her hand to his mouth and Jess was already recoiling, casting a dark look at Luke as he headed for the door. He kept his head turned away from Rory, turning almost completely sideways to avoid bumping into her, and Luke wanted to yell in frustration. He couldn't believe Jess was storming out _again_. They had just been getting somewhere – or, well, Luke _felt _like they had, and this was not a step in the right direction.

Luke's mouth was hanging open a little as Rory turned back to him, looking so hurt he couldn't bring himself to feel anything but sympathy for her. She didn't know – which was the whole point – but it didn't change the fact that Jess was running away, and it was because of her.

"I'm sorry," Rory said, biting her lip. "I don't know -" she cut herself off and ran fingers through her hair distractedly. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I have to go." She met his eyes briefly before turning on her heel and leaving.

He shut the door behind her slowly, feeling numb. He set the bag of books at the foot of Jess' bed and ran his hands through his hair. He could go after Jess, he supposed, but he couldn't see any good coming from that. Besides, he was still in his pajamas. It occurred to him vaguely that Jess hadn't changed at all – not last night before bed and not this morning.

Luke showered, trying to clear his thoughts, but there was so much crashing around in his mind that even attempting to put it all in order made him ache. In his head, in his chest, in his calves and the palms of his hands, he ached. He wiped steam from the mirror and looked at himself, really looked, for the first time since everything went to shit.

He looked like hell. He expected that, but, all things considered, Luke actually thought his appearance was a pretty average amount of terrible. Not as bad as he'd been thinking. His eyes were red and framed with dark, sleepless circles, the lines on his face were deep and craggy, he looked pallid, and he hadn't shaved once in the last week. The general impression he got was of a psychotic mountain man who may or may not be ready to murder you in your sleep. But from the way he felt, he had almost expected his face to be peeling away from his skull, skin raw as sandpaper.

He shaved with great deliberation, staring at his reflection as he drew the razor down his neck. For no reason at all, he remembered his dad teaching him how to shave. His hands tingled as that thought was quickly followed by the question of who, if anyone, taught Jess. Luke tried to mentally run through the men who had been in Liz's life for the past decade, focusing on keeping his temper steady. He couldn't even remember them all, or what order they came in. And that didn't include the ones that had been such scum Liz hadn't bothered to let him know. In the mirror, Luke could see his fingers shaking. He washed off his face with water as hot as the tap could produce, and had his face buried in a towel when there was a knock on the door. Luke pulled a shirt on, wondering blearily if he had accidentally locked Jess out.

Lorelai stood in the door, tired but smiling. She held out a little paper bag. "I brought muffins."

_Very strange morning,_ Luke thought. Every time he opened the door, it was some Gilmore woman offering a consolation prize. Rory with books, Lorelai with food. Maybe if he shut the door on Lorelai and reopened it, he would find the grandmother, bringing them crystal napkin holders. He sighed and crossed his arms, not moving out of the doorway.

Lorelai pulled her arm back a little and her smile faltered. "Um," she said, hesitating, and shook the bag. "I mean, I just got them from Bob - in the kitchen - so it's not like a huge accomplishment or anything. He's no Sookie, but she's trained him and traumatized him enough that he's about the closest thing you'll get in Connecticut. They have some of that really tasty crumble topping." She mimed crumbling with her free hand. "And I did walk them all the way from the kitchen. They're blueberry."

Luke didn't move, didn't speak. Lorelai dropped her hand to her side. "But I can always go see if Sookie has some whole grain … pastries of some kind stashed in the kitchen," she offered, studying his face. He looked away. "Luke?" Her voice was very soft. "What's wrong? What happened?" She leaned around him to look into the room. "Where's Jess?"

He arched his eyebrow. "Rory was here," he said flatly.

Lorelai's mouth dropped open. "Oh – she – what? She was? Oh." She nodded slowly, still intent on his face. "So Jess didn't take that well."

"No."

She shook her head. "Oh my God," she said softly. "I'm sorry."

The last of Luke's restraint snapped. "You told her to come here!" he whispered harshly, leaning in to Lorelai.

She blinked, surprised, and rocked backward. "No, I didn't _tell her_ to. I didn't even know she was coming today! She just told me she was going out."

"Oh, really," Luke said scathingly. "That's very convenient that the _one time_ you don't know what she's up to, she's on her way over here."

Lorelai was clearly trying to get her bearings. "I'm not even sure what you're trying to accuse me of. I swear I didn't tell her to visit. I wouldn't have done that!"

"But you said he wanted books!" Luke's voice was increasing in volume and Lorelai glanced around, smiling tightly at an elderly couple that was walking by, watching them. She took hold of Luke's shoulder and guided him into the room, closing the door behind her.

"I can't believe you let this happen!" he snapped as soon as the door was shut.

"Let it happen? She didn't tell me she was going to see you!" She dropped her head and shuffled. "Uh, not _today_, at least. I even told her to wait, which is probably why she picked this morning to do it." Lorelai shook her head. Luke couldn't follow what she was saying. Half the time she talked, he didn't know what she was going on about, and he thought angrily that it was selfish of her to expect people to follow along. "I thought she would tell me or ask me or come _with _me, and then I would have called you, at the very least."

"How would that have been any better? She shouldn't have come. You should have told her not to."

Her fingers twitched around the bag she was gripping so tightly she was probably crushing the muffins' stupid crumble topping. "She's been worried and she _cares_ about the both of you! How am I supposed to tell her she's not allowed to be here?"

Luke snorted. "Oh, heaven forbid that you might _once_ in your life say 'no' to Rory. I forgot that it might ruin the magical, perfect mother-daughter duo thing you have going. I'm sorry for suggesting it!"

Lorelai pulled back, her lips drawing up over her teeth. She exhaled harshly and paused a moment before saying, "That's not what I meant, Luke! I'm not trying to be lazy or _score points_ with my daughter!"

Luke rolled his eyes and Lorelai threw the little paper bag of muffins on the dresser angrily. "She is a smart girl, and she already knows that something's not right, that there's more to the story than some crazy stranger breaking into the diner and conking Jess on the head. It's all I can do to keep her from trying to figure it out! If I could come up with a convincing story about why everything's OK and the worst that happened was Jess' concussion, but she's not allowed to see you, even though _I _am, believe me, I'd tell her." Lorelai spread her empty hands wide. "But I've got nothing!"

He was hardly listening to what she was saying. He was just angry – _livid_ – and he wasn't even sure why, except that Jess was hurt and someone had to be to blame for it. He paced, agitated, between the nightstand and the foot of their beds. "You had to know that would upset him! You remember what he said!"

"Yes, I remember!" Her hands balled into fists at her side, and she looked like she was so frustrated she was ready to cry. Luke latched on to that, his anger fueled by hers. It almost felt good, pouring all of his bile onto her, like lancing poison from a wound. Lorelai gestured sharply as she continued, "I understand that Jess doesn't want to see her and that this is hard on him, and I am _sorry_ for that, but I didn't tell Rory to come and I didn't drive her here! You have to believe me that I don't want to cause that kid any more pain than he's already been through."

Luke couldn't help it. He scoffed. Lorelai took a step away from him, her face falling into an expression so hurt he couldn't hold her eye. He didn't quite regret it – his mind was still burning and buzzing too hot and too loud for him to register much of anything beyond his own blind rage – but when she passed a hand over her eyes, he felt shame puddling at the pit of his stomach. But it didn't douse his temper.

Lorelai breathed shallowly for a moment, watching him. "_Luke_," she said at last, her voice thick. He stopped pacing, standing at the corner of his bed, glaring at her. She shook her head. "Don't do that. Don't pretend like I don't care."

He turned away again, pressing his palms to his forehead. His head hurt. Everywhere hurt, and he was sick of it. He just wanted to go to sleep and wake up somewhere else, as someone else. He sighed and slowly faced Lorelai, dropping his arms heavily at his sides.

They stared at each other, Luke scowling and Lorelai imploring. He put his hands on his hips and bowed his head, shaking it almost absently from side to side. When he looked back up at her, she had moved closer.

"Luke, I'm sorry." He didn't know if she was apologizing for this or just expressing sympathy for the whole situation, but he didn't care.

"You shouldn't have let her come," he said, his voice low and tired. Lorelai hugged her arms tightly to herself and exhaled harshly. He gnawed on his lip, and when she took another step toward him, he said, "You should probably go."

Lorelai nodded, her head bowed. She turned quickly and walked out of the room. Almost as soon as the door was shut behind her, Luke felt the petty urge to hit something. Punch a pillow, kick the wall, yank the comforter and sheets off the bed and throw them around the room. He noticed the bag of muffins on top of the dresser where Lorelai left them and grabbed it, feeling a surge of satisfying spite as he smashed the bag against the surface of the dresser. He picked it up again and held it between his hands, contemplating ripping it in half, when he looked down at it, mashed and mangled in his shaking fingers. He deflated, feeling suddenly silly. His anger dropped away so quickly it left him momentarily disoriented, leaving him with just a lingering frustration and a familiar bone-deep weariness.

He held the bag in one hand**, **studying it wryly as his breathing returned to normal. He tossed it on his bed and pushed his hands through his hair, sighing heavily. He was sick of feeling like this, he was sick of the routine of sitting around worrying and feeling useless. He had to get out, go somewhere, because even stomping through Stars Hollow aimlessly would be better than sitting on his bed, staring at the wall and not thinking about the pamphlet in the drawer or the gauze sitting on top of the nightstand or the fact that Jess was gone again. Still. He grabbed his coat and headed out the door.

His search around the grounds was perfunctory. They were too expansive and unfamiliar to him to easily track Jess down, especially since Jess had the advantage of spending the last few days, Luke assumed, finding places to disappear. Luke looked anyway, although he was sure he wouldn't find Jess and largely didn't want to. He didn't trust himself at the moment to handle the situation calmly or well, and he would probably wind up driving Jess farther away, if that was even possible.

After he looped around the grounds once without finding anything, he set off through the parking lot, past his truck, back to town. Luke walked for a long time, not really looking for anything or headed anywhere, not that he was aware, until he realized he was automatically guiding himself to the diner. His home, the place he spent practically all day every day for years, a tiny, spare bachelor pad, but _his home_. He liked it, he liked that it was just big enough for him, and he liked that he knew exactly where everything was and that no one else did. That the desk was just where his father used to have it, and that when Luke first converted the office into his apartment, he worked on the layout for weeks to make sure he could keep the desk where it was supposed to go.

He still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact of having to move. He got it, logically, especially since the need for a new place was one aspect of what had happened that he could focus on without feeling like he had to throw up. He mulled over the logistics and the packing and ideal location for a new apartment and rent range and square footage, but it was still unreal. He couldn't really imagine living somewhere else, some place that had no memories or particular meaning. And then the apartment above the diner would be – what? An office again? All that empty space and a file cabinet and a desk and the memory of the worst night of Luke's life, although not necessarily Jess'. His stomach rolled as he thought of it.

He kept his head down as he walked through the square, which was busy even for a Saturday, and Luke thought he remembered there being some town something or other scheduled for today. Though he could feel people's attention on him like a film of dirt on his skin, no one stopped him. He was a little surprised that he hadn't been accosted with sympathy or people asking questions, but he supposed it was possible – however unlikely – that people were trying to give him and Jess some space.

The diner looked the way it always did, which Luke found both reassuring and a little frustrating. It was bizarre that nothing around him was changing while he was falling to pieces. He noticed the coat hanging on the hook by the door belatedly, just as he heard footsteps from the back room, and Luke didn't even have time to panic or scramble for something to defend himself when Ceasar emerged.

"Oh, hey, Luke," he said lightly. "I thought I heard the door."

"Oh my God, Ceasar, you scared the shit out of me," Luke said, pressing his hand to his chest. Ceasar's eyebrows lifted fractionally and Luke guessed that might have been the first time he'd sworn casually in front of him.

"Sorry, Luke. We've been getting deliveries still – small ones, but since I had a key, I thought I'd let myself in and help out."

"No, don't apologize. Thanks. That's – that's very – thanks. I forgot about the delivery schedule." He paused to force himself to relax. "Wait, have you been logging these hours?" Ceasar gave Luke a sideways look that answered the question for him and shook his head. "I can't let you do that. You haven't had your normal hours to begin with this week. Make sure you write those down before you go."

"Yeah, sure," he said, so easily that Luke knew he wasn't going to. He considered arguing about it, but he figured it probably wasn't worth it. He'd just throw extra hours into Ceasar's next paycheck.

"So, do you want me to stay and finish?" Ceasar asked.

"You know, I think – I think I'll do it on my own. Thank you, though. I really appreciate it."

Ceasar waved it off, grabbing his coat. He was almost at the door when Luke stopped him. "What do you think about opening the diner up tomorrow?" He said the words almost as the idea formed in his mind, feeling stupidly bold.

Ceasar looked surprised. "That's your call, Luke, not mine."

"Yeah, well, I was thinking, if you're OK with it, you could open. Mostly run the place. I'll be in and out." Luke wasn't even sure if that would be true. He didn't make plans from one day to the next, but he could probably take time to come to the diner and, he thought guiltily, it would be nice to have a place to get away to. "You can call that what's his name who helped out a few times if you think you'll need an extra person. Sundays can get crazy." Luke was distantly proud of himself for remembering what day of the week it was.

Ceasar considered for a moment, giving Luke an appraising look, and Luke had to restrain himself from falling into a defensive posture. "All right," Ceasar said with a tone too casual to be completely natural. There was no way Ceasar didn't notice how haggard Luke looked, but he appreciated that he trusted him enough not to question the decision. Although, while that was flattering, now that Luke was thinking about it, he doubted it was the most prudent choice on Ceasar's part to have that much faith in him.

"Great," Luke said. "See you tomorrow, then. And make sure you actually log your hours."

Ceasar smiled. "All right, Luke. But, you know, if you're going to be mad at me for working off the clock, you've got to yell at Lorelai, too."

"What?" Luke froze, so confused that for a moment he wondered if Ceasar was referring to the argument he just had with her.

"She saw me come in the other morning and knocked on the door really hard until I let her in. She wanted to help."

"Oh."

"Kirk offered to help, too. And Gypsy, and Jackson. I've been turning down a lot of people who want to lend a hand. Babette. Morey." Luke wasn't feeling quite clever enough to understand what Ceasar was saying. He'd felt so isolated in his reeling horror the last few days that he'd almost forgotten about these people, and they were, in some cases, literally beating down the door to help him. Luke felt tight in his lungs and chest, but he couldn't get his mind entirely around what he was feeling. "But," Ceasar continued, "for some reason, it's really hard to say no to Lorelai." Luke nodded. "That woman is dangerous with a box cutter."

"Yeah," he said, forcing a laugh that felt to him more like a dry cough.

Ceasar's hand lingered on the door. "Well. OK then. See you in the morning."

Luke lifted a hand in goodbye, swallowing roughly. He tried to process his thoughts, he really did, but it just made his head swim. He fell to work easily, finishing up the few tasks Ceasar hadn't gotten to. Mostly just unloading some boxes and confirming shipments, but Luke was glad for it. He knew how to do this. It required no thought, no emotion, and his body could perform the actions without the help of his higher mental faculties. The only problem was it didn't take nearly long enough, and just as Luke was feeling comfortable, he ran out of work. It gave him time to think again, and he didn't appreciate it.

Maybe he was doing the wrong thing, opening up the diner so soon. And without so much as giving it even passing consideration. If Luke was here, working, what would Jess do? But it wasn't as though Luke was making any progress with Jess while they were at the inn. If keeping himself partially occupied with running his business kept Luke from going completely insane, then that could only help. And he had to overcome the profound sense of unease just being in the diner gave him. It occurred to Luke that it might be strange that shutting it down or relocating hadn't even entered his mind. It was just almost as much associated with what happened as the apartment, and he couldn't imagine Jess wanting to step foot in it again.

He walked out of the back room, not even needing to look down at the order written on the wall to remember what it said. _3 hammers. Phillips head screwdriver. 3 boxes nails. Assorted sizes. _It just wasn't an option. He would move from the apartment with relatively few regrets, but he wasn't going to give up his diner.

It was probably just paranoia, but Luke suddenly got the feeling he was being watched. He looked up, scanning the view from the windows. While there were still a lot of people milling around, no one had their face pressed up against the glass, staring at him. For Stars Hollow, that was a major feat in respecting his privacy. With a surge of embarrassment, Luke remembered what Ceasar said about people offering help. He was a little surprised that just about everyone had seen him enter the diner and no one was lining up at the door to get a look at him or speak to him. Or try to help him stock shelves. That restraint probably wasn't going to last long, and Luke was in absolutely no mood to face down even the kindest well-wishers. He grabbed some empty boxes from the back, thinking about starting work on packing up the apartment, and headed for the stairs.

Luke paused when he got to the curtain, stopped short even in his determination to avoid people by the burning fear in his lungs. He reached a hand to it tentatively. Right before his fingers would have touched, he curled them into a fist and tapped the curtain with his knuckles, watching the fabric ripple. Damn everything, this shouldn't be so hard. He shouldn't need to take a moment to walk up a flight of stairs. He shouldn't need Lorelai to hold his hand to be brave enough to do it. He snorted out a burst of frustration and pushed the curtain aside, keeping his head down and taking the stairs quickly.

He went through the door with so much force he staggered, dropping the boxes and feeling idiotic. He kept his eyes on the ground for a moment, breathing evenly, gathering his bearings. Cautiously, he walked in, lifting his gaze to look around. When he was here with Lorelai a few days ago, he'd mostly been too distracted to think about how much his skin was crawling. As he took in the apartment, his heart sank, but not as much for Ted's lingering presence as what wasn't there.

Since Lorelai packed up Jess' things, there was almost no evidence of his presence in the apartment. The only real indication that someone lived there apart from Luke was the air mattress, which was starting to look sad and under-inflated. Luke had gotten used to Jess' mess with relative ease, and he was surprised now, looking back, on how quickly he had adjusted to having the kid live with him. He hardly noticed the few extra things around that were Jess' when they were there, but their absence unsettled him. It gave the impression that Jess was already gone. It made him think of Jess' angry threat to leave, because his bag was already packed. He felt a flutter of panic remembering that and shied from it, unprepared to deal with it just yet. Luke turned away, leaning heavily on the back of a kitchen chair.

He looked at the fridge, wondering when he had last eaten, and remembered the muffins he crushed and left in their room at the inn. He felt like such a jackass. Looking back, even _he _had no idea what he'd been accusing Lorelai of. Gross negligence of his nephew's feelings or the simple inability to control Rory's every action, who knew. It was so stupid and she didn't deserve it. He knew that. She'd done nothing but be there for them, and, although it hadn't made an impression on him at the time, Luke noticed how exhausted she looked that morning. He knew she cared, that she'd been giving more of herself than she could spare for them. He _was_ a jackass. He'd have to make it up to her. He had no idea how, but he would. He'd make her a bouquet made of nachos if he had to, but he would apologize.

Luke was considering making himself lunch, even though he wasn't hungry and didn't think he ever would be again, when his eyes passed over the phone and where his answering machine should be. Who knew how many people had been trying to call him while he was out of contact – it could be any number of actually important matters, but Luke had completely forgotten about it. It was surprising how much slipped his mind. What if a doctor had called, what if the police had? Luke thought of his argument with Jess and felt sick again, rubbing his eyes wearily. And if Liz had been trying to call, screw her. It was childish and petty, but at the moment, he _hoped_ she was worrying herself out of sleep, into waves of bone-shaking nausea. If she really wanted to know how he and Jess were, she would be in Stars Hollow already.

Like a slap to the face, Luke remembered something he thought of back at the hospital: the photograph of Liz and Ted's wedding. He had it in the apartment still, and the thought sent a cold wave of anger through him. He strode to the desk purposefully, putting more confidence in his steps than he felt, and yanked open a low drawer. He didn't know what he was going to do with the picture when he found it – incinerate it, tear it into pieces, but he wanted it destroyed.

He flipped open the lid of the box that had all his important photographs and paused. Rachel used to tease him about how disorganized it was, imploring him to find some sort of system, but he had seen it as a waste of space and energy. He knew where they were: in the box. So what if they were in a huge pile, not all facing the same direction, and he didn't remember what some of the pictures were from anymore? It really did look like a mess, though, and as Luke picked up the stack of photographs, he felt a moment of grim amusement that Rachel had been right about that, too.

The top picture he recognized immediately. It was his father on the first day the hardware store opened. He was standing behind the register, looking into the camera, not quite smiling. Luke knew the expression, though, the small quirk at the corner of his mouth he got when he was amused or excited or proud and trying to hold it in. Luke had a framed copy of it on a high shelf in the diner, but this was the original. It felt different from most pictures – more substantial, the paper coarser.

Next was Liz, maybe eight years old, dressed in overalls and sitting on the floor of what was then their father's office. She was steadying a bit of two-by-four with one hand and a hammer in the other, poised to strike at the nails she'd haphazardly driven into the wood. Her legs were curled under her in a position only a child could find comfortable.

After that were more of Liz, and very few of Luke. He hadn't cared to hold on to most of the pictures of himself, and Liz had practically begged him for them. He wondered if she still had them. He chuckled softly as he flipped passed one of his high school graduation. He was in his big stupid gown, but Liz had stolen the ugly hat and was trying to put him in a headlock.

And then Rachel. His heart sped up for a brief, painful moment as he looked at her face from so long ago, when he was in love with her and they could do anything. Luke had forgotten that he kept the pictures he had of her, but now he remembered the day he'd gathered them all up, determined to trash them. He hadn't been able to do it, and had shoved them in this box, halfway down the stack, as though hiding them from himself. He flipped through them quickly, familiar with most of them, and feeling only distant pangs of loss, more out of nostalgia than lingering hurt. He paused at one, unable to remember who had taken the picture. It had been some silly town event that Rachel was photographing and he had begrudgingly attended. In the picture, she was leaning close to him, her camera held to her eye, grinning, and he was reaching a hand to her lens. He couldn't recall what the event had been, but he knew that after he pulled the camera away, he had kissed her.

He flipped to the next picture and his heart stopped. He hadn't realized he had this picture, but now that he saw it, the day was clear in his mind. It wasn't long after Jimmy left. Luke had taken time off to help Liz out, pretending he thought Jimmy might come back. Liz didn't seem to buy into the idea and was surprisingly unemotional about it. She didn't cry much, at least not around him, and she seemed wholly absorbed in her baby boy.

Liz was relaxing in a recliner that used to belong to their father, and Jess was limply asleep on her shoulder. With one hand she supported his butt, and the other tracked thoughtless patterns over his head, his cheek, his back. She hummed tunelessly, watching the ceiling. "I wish Dad could have seen you," she whispered against Jess' head.

Luke rubbed his back, stretching. "He did see him. Took off not long after, but he saw Jess."

Liz turned a confused look on him, running her fingers across the little indentations on Jess' hand that were his knuckles. "Huh? Oh. Oh, not Jimmy. I meant _our _dad." Luke paused, feeling guilty for bringing up Jimmy when Liz's mind wasn't already on the issue of her absent husband. She didn't seem bothered, though, just rolled her head back so her chin was nestled up against her son's forehead. "He would have adored you."

Luke nodded. "Yeah, he would have." It wasn't that long ago William Danes had died, and sometimes Luke had to remind himself he was gone.

"Who needs Jimmy anyway?" Liz continued. "I've got you and your Uncle Luke. Fuck Jimmy."

"Liz, don't… swear in front of the baby." Luke shared her sentiments, but it still seemed inappropriate.

She grinned at him. "Luke, he can't understand me! I could say anything and he wouldn't be bothered. He's asleep, anyway."

"Still," Luke said, waving his hand in the air uncomfortably, "you probably shouldn't expose him to that sort of – negative -"

"Jess," Liz cut in, as though Luke weren't talking, "your dad is a cocksucking son of a bitch."

"Liz!"

"Shh!" she admonished. "You'll wake him up!" Luke glared at her and she smiled, then went back to addressing the baby on her shoulder. "Don't you grow up to be like him, OK? Just one Jimmy Mariano in the world is enough. In fact, don't grow up to be like me, either. Just bypass both of us and take after your uncle." Luke sighed, sitting on the chair beside her. Liz loved to flatter him out of a bad mood, and, what possibly annoyed Luke more than anything, it tended to work.

"Your uncle," she continued, so softly Luke could hardly hear her, "is the greatest man in the whooooole world." She spread her fingers wide when she said "whole world," then dropped them to Jess' head, brushing lightly at fine, dark strands of hair. "God, his skin is perfect."

Luke watched her quietly for a while. He didn't really want to discuss serious issues with her now, when she seemed more at peace than he'd seen her for a long time. "I'm going to have to go back soon."

"I know," she said calmly. "I'm not asking you to stay."

"But, Liz. What are you going to do?"

She shrugged her free shoulder. "I'll get by. I have a lot of friends in the city. You remember Anna?" Luke shook his head. "Come on. Anna. You remember. _Anna_."

"You can keep saying her name, but I don't know who you mean."

"Well, you met her. I think. Anyway, she's going to let me crash with her at the end of the month. This place is paid up until then." She kissed Jess' forehead and dragged her thumb over the back of his head.

"And then what?" She shrugged again and Luke pressed the heel of his hand to his temple. "That's your plan? You have a _kid _now, and -"

"I know that, Luke," she interrupted, her voice quiet but firm. She looked at him with a serious expression that he read as a warning not to continue down this path.

"You could always move back home," he offered, undeterred. She sighed and shook her head. "This isn't a time to be stubborn. It'd be a lot easier. You'd be close to family and the diner and it's sure as hell cheaper than living here."

She shook her head again. "Stars Hollow isn't for me. It never was."

"But this isn't just _you_ we're talking about."

"Luke!" she whispered harshly. "I understand! I really do get it, OK? This is not the way I had things planned, and now I … honestly don't have any. But I'm going to take care of him." Liz looked away, resting her cheek on the top of Jess' head. She was still retaining a lot of the baby weight in her face, and Luke thought she looked painfully young. She _was _young, but the roundness of her cheeks gave him sharp reminders of what she looked like in middle school. They had already argued about that, though, so much that Liz was immediately defensive if Luke mentioned age or experience at all. It was beside the point now, anyway. Even though Liz was too young and stupid to have run off to start a family, she'd done it, and now the important thing was taking care of Jess.

Liz rubbed small circles high on Jess' back. "If there's anything I do for the rest of my life, it's going to be making sure that nothing bad happens to him. Whatever decisions I make from now on will be based on that. You have to trust me."

Luke pressed his lips together to keep from mentioning that, while the sentiment was nice, it probably wasn't going to work out that easily. Fighting with Liz hardly ever helped, though, and she was contrary enough to do the opposite of whatever he suggested if he pushed. He'd just keep checking in with her. It was inevitable that her flighty friends would let her down and she'd need help again. Luke figured, Liz would have to realize that the way she heedlessly tackled life wasn't going to cut it when she had a child. Jess would need stability. So would she.

He scratched the back of his head and nodded. "OK."

She glanced at him, evidently surprised that he gave in so easily, and she smiled. "Thanks. You really are the greatest."

"Yeah, yeah."

Liz grimaced. "Ugh, Luke, help me out. I have to piss." She shifted, sitting up in the chair, watching Jess for any signs that she was disturbing his sleep. Luke stood, swinging his arms awkwardly.

"You want me to take him?"

"Please," she said, standing slowly. She stepped away from the chair and looked at Luke's upturned hands. She looked down at the chair and then back at him. "Sit down," she commanded.

"You want me to – like you were?"

"He sleeps better that way."

Luke dropped his hands to his hips. "Are you going to be in the bathroom that long? You said it was a piss."

"Don't swear in front of the baby!" Luke scowled at her again. "Come on. He doesn't sleep as well if I put him in the crib and I need to stretch."

He sighed and conceded, sitting back tentatively, and Liz transferred Jess to him gently, settling him into the hollow of Luke's shoulder. "How do I -" he started, but Liz was already guiding his hands to support Jess the way she had. Luke had to arch his neck awkwardly and stare down his own nose to look at Jess' face, so close and small and fragile. To his surprise, Jess didn't seem bothered by the movement. He took in a small, sharp breath and Luke froze, but he let it out as a tiny sigh and his eyes remained closed.

Liz touched a hand to her face and smiled at them. "Luke," she murmured. He looked up at her and noticed her eyes were a little wet.

"Liz, are you -"

She waved a hand. "No, it's fine. I just – I really am so lucky to have you. Thank you." She bend down and pecked his cheek. "You know Mom used to do this with us when we were first born. In this chair. I've seen pictures."

Luke shifted as carefully as he could. He couldn't put his head back with his baseball cap on. The bill kept hitting the headrest and digging into the back of his neck. "Yeah, I remember. I've seen them, too." He tried to tilt his neck so he could recline, but he wasn't having a lot of success, and he didn't want to move his hands away from Jess to take his hat off. He never wanted to admit it to Liz, but every time he held Jess, he envisioned dropping him. Luke squirmed, scrunching up his face.

"Oh, Luke, for the love of God," Liz sighed, finally snatching his hat off his head and tossing it on the floor.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"You look adorable, by the way," she called quietly over her shoulder as she left the room.

Luke snorted and craned his neck again to watch Jess. He looked impossibly small, all scrunched and wrinkled with his legs tucked up under his belly and his hands in tiny tight fists. Luke's hands looked enormous by comparison, and he felt like an oafish, clumsy giant. He relaxed as much as he could, settling into the chair. Slowly, carefully, he used his thumb to stroke Jess' back. Luke wasn't sure about what Liz said about Jess taking after him, but he thought if maybe inheritance could skip an entire generation and Jess took after their father, that would be ideal.

"Maybe you'll take over the diner someday," Luke mused softly. "Convert it back into a hardware store. Or sporting goods. Sports would work." It was possible, Luke thought, especially if he never had children of his own. He had honestly never considered it a possibility, but mostly he just didn't think about it at all. He tried to picture it – if the baby on his shoulder were his – and a hot jolt of panic went through him. He swallowed hard. "Just as long as you keep up the sign. I want that sign to stay up forever."

It really was sort of nice to have a kid sleeping on his chest. Luke felt lost almost all of the time when Liz asked him to help out with Jess. He could do things like clean up, run errands, cook dinners, but actually interacting with the baby made him nervous. Jess was so small, and Luke had zero experience dealing with children. This, though, he could do. Jess' breathing was a soft, soothing rhythm and the warmth of his body went all the way through Luke's shoulders and ribs. Luke touched a tentative hand to the side of Jess' head, just barely touching his skin, and traced his fingers over the curve of his nephew's ear.

He could be a good uncle. He could imagine that easily – especially if Liz moved back. She had the house. Luke inherited the store and Liz got the house, which their father had owned in full. Jimmy, in his almost constant panic over the approaching birth of his child, had suggested she sell it so get them enough money to get by. Liz had been reluctant, and, as far as he knew, it was still in her name. It really only made sense that she move back. She and Jess would be within walking distance, and maybe he could get her a job at the diner if she'd let him. Luke always figured her stubborn independence was something she put on to be different, to get attention, because he simply didn't understand half the decisions she made if they weren't at least partially motivated by a desire to drive him crazy. As he closed his eyes and rubbed circles on Jess' back, he hoped it wouldn't take long to convince her to come home.

The _click_ and whir of the camera woke him up, and Luke raised his head sharply to see Liz sitting across from him, grinning. She wound the camera and held it to her eye again. Luke put up his hand. "Stop that."

"But it's so precious." She dropped her hands anyway, leaning her elbows on her knees. "It'll match the ones of us and Mom." Luke sighed and leaned his head back. "Isn't he the most beautiful baby you've ever seen?" Her voice was quiet, full of awe. He didn't think he was the best judge since he didn't know many babies to compare Jess to, but he didn't mention that. It was a smartass thing to say, and he didn't want to poke at Liz at the moment. And anyway, he felt an echo of her sentiment deep in his chest.

"He really is," Luke murmured, touching the back of his hand to Jess' cheek.

Liz had sold the house not long after that. Luke had been furious. He hadn't even found out it was on the market from her – someone had stopped in the diner to ask about it, and after a long, heated, yes-it-is-for-sale, no-it-isn't debate with the man, Luke had stormed upstairs in the middle of a lunch rush to call her. Liz hadn't answered – he wouldn't be able to get a hold of her for weeks – and he had been so hurt and angry he cried. And punched the counter hard enough to split the skin on two knuckles. He had let himself sink to the floor, cradling his head in his hands, feeling the slow crawl of blood down his arm.

The incident caused a rift between them big enough that Luke actually missed most of Jess' first year. Liz was difficult to track down, and Luke had been bitter enough not to try too hard to find her. When she eventually _had_ come to him to reconcile, Luke relented because of Jess. He would have for her, too, but it would have taken much longer. He always gave in for Jess. He would do almost anything for Liz because she was his sister and he loved her, but it was usually Jess he was thinking of right before he sighed and said "Sure, Liz, fine. I'll help." To him, that had seemed like more than enough in fulfilling his duties as a brother and uncle.

Looking at the picture now, tracking his thumb over the lines of Jess' face, his reasoning seemed inexcusably shallow. Even though it wouldn't do him any good to think of hypotheticals, Luke couldn't help wondering what would have happened if he'd been more involved, if he hadn't mostly waited for Liz to come to him, trusting that she would ask him for help before anything went irreparably wrong. She hadn't asked him to be involved more than that, but he hadn't offered, and what if? What if.

Luke sat back, covering his eyes with a hand. _And I'm all he has now_, he thought, his heart falling.

---

When he finally came out of the diner hours later, Luke was glad that it was getting dark. It helped obscure his face, now embarrassingly red and puffy from crying. He felt hollowed out and tiny. The one benefit was that he felt about humble enough to adequately apologize to Lorelai. He knocked on her door and stuck his hands in his back pockets. He hoped she wouldn't be angry, but he had a guilty suspicion that she would let him off easier than he deserved.

"Hey, Lorelai," he said with an awkward little half-wave.

"Luke," she replied, stepping out of the way and gesturing for him to come in. He walked in, head bowed, running the palm of his hand over the knuckles of the other and glancing around everywhere in the room that wasn't directly at Lorelai. She closed the door and turned to him, tucking her arms close to her body. They stood there silently for a long moment before Lorelai gestured to the living room. "You can make yourself comfortable."

He caught her eye for a second before ducking his head away again. "Thanks, I think I'll just – I don't know. Are you busy?" He rubbed his jaw absently.

She shook her head. "Not at all."

He nodded and swung his arms, making no move out of the entrance. "And, um," his voice lowered, "is Rory here?" He felt guilty even saying her name.

"No, she's out with Dean. Date night."

"No date for you?" he asked without thinking about the words, trying to make his tone light but feeling largely idiotic.

Lorelai shook her head again. "Haven't really been up to it." He thought it was fairly generous of her not to sound offended. He knew she was hurt and upset, and he hadn't meant to imply that he expected her to go back to her life like nothing was wrong.

"Is it all right if I come in?"

Lorelai took a step closer to him, leaning down to catch his eye. He looked at her and she straightened, putting a hand on his arm. She nodded, rubbing his arm gently. He exhaled harshly and scratched at his temple, but remained otherwise stationary.

Eventually Lorelai took the initiative and walked into the living room, calling back over her shoulder, "You want something to drink or eat?"

Luke took a tentative step after her. "Um, I don't think so. I think I'm fine."

"That might be a good thing. I've got some coffee going, but apart from that, there's not actually a lot in the house right now except for stale pretzels and water. I could get you some water."

"No, I don't need any," he said, trudging behind. The mention of food reminded him that he had meant to make her something as a lame form of apology, and he cursed himself silently. He lingered in the archway of the kitchen, palms pressed against the small of his back. Lorelai was pouring two glasses of water.

She glanced up at him. "Take a seat, Luke, really."

He slid into a chair, clasping his hands together on the surface of the table. Lorelai put a glass of water in front of him and sat down to his left, pulling her chair close and angling toward him. "Sorry, couldn't help it," she said, indicating the water. "I'm too much the consummate hostess."

Luke nodded.

"Lorelai, I'm sorry," he started, but she was already shaking her head.

"No, please don't apologize. I get it, really."

He rubbed his hands over his face, feeling almost disappointed that she wasn't going to give him a harder time. "I really shouldn't have done that, though, it was completely unjustified and -"

"Luke, come on." He looked up at her, dropping his hands back on the table. She tilted her head at him, expression serious. "I understand." She leaned closer, wrapping her hands around one of his. "You have so much more to worry about, and I don't want you to be sorry to me."

Luke was feeling pretty numb, but he was aware of her fingers over his and the gratitude he felt that he even knew this woman. Lorelai snorted and smiled wryly. "Believe me, I understand. You should have been there for the fight I had with my mother last night."

"Yeah?" was all he had the wits to offer.

She nodded, thumbs twiddling against his knuckles. "I'd say this one goes down in the hall of fame. If not for sheer volume – and some words that have not been uttered in that house for lo these last seventeen years – then for the fact that it really was all my fault." He smiled and Lorelai jutted her chin thoughtfully. "Just – completely out of nowhere. Yelling. I was very impressive."

"I'm sure you were."

Lorelai curled her lip and leaned in closer, like she was telling him a secret. "It felt really good, though. Not, you know, that I probably did hurt her, because I didn't mean to do that. And Rory's disappointed in me and we're fighting now, too, so that basically blows. But I don't really regret it. I needed to rage at someone, and Emily Gilmore is certainly good for that. I never would have thought I'd be thinking of her as a form of stress relief."

"Lorelai, I don't want to use you as stress relief. That's not fair to you."

She shrugged a shoulder. "I know, but I understand." He nodded. He really would have to figure out a way to make her a bouquet out of nachos. He could probably craft the petals from chips and use the cheese as the center. Lorelai gave his hand a small squeeze and he came back to himself. He watched her for a while, his head throbbing with a dull thrum. She looked at the table, where her hands were folded over one of his. She lifted one hand and slid it under his, so it was sandwiched between hers.

"Are you OK with this?" he asked.

She looked up, eyebrows ticking together. "With what?"

Luke cleared his throat. "With – being a part of all this. You don't have to be, you know. It's not yours to have to handle. I mean – I don't mean to say that you're not appreciated, or that I think you don't want to help, it's just that you have the option. I mean, if I had the choice, _I_ wouldn't know any of this. Because it wouldn't have happened, not just because I'd be ignorant about it, of course, and probably you feel the same way, because naturally you'd never _want_ this to have happened, but if you could not know about it, then you might want to." He rolled his eyes, trying to recollect his thoughts. He sighed and started again. "What I'm saying is, I think, that you have the choice."

Lorelai rubbed the back of his hand. "No I don't, Luke. Like you said, it happened, and there's nothing I can do to change that. But, Luke. You don't have to do this by yourself." She sighed and turned her head to the side, then snapped it back to look at him. "No, that's not even right. I don't want you to do this by yourself."

"Really?"

"I won't let you."

Luke felt a rush of relief so intense that it surprised him. He had to press the fingers of the hand she wasn't holding against his eyes to hold back the sting of tears. It was ridiculous; he wasn't even sad. He blinked and sniffed and rubbed at his nose. "Thank you." She squeezed his hand, nodding.

"I don't know if this is obvious," he said, lacing his words with self-deprecating sarcasm, "but I have – _no idea_ – what to do." He slashed his hand through the air to emphasize his point. "None."

"Oh, Luke," she murmured. "No one would know what to do."

He shook his head. "I don't know. I was hardly pulling this whole guardian thing off before – this – happened. I don't know. I've got nothing. I can't even relate to teenagers in the first place, and now, Jess…" Luke didn't even know how to finish the sentence, his thoughts derailed as he pictured Jess, sitting in the hospital, cradling his head in his hands and crying. He blinked and was back to reality, looking at Lorelai, who was watching him with overbright eyes. "I'm not a parent. I've got no experience, and I…"

"What would you do if this happened to Rory?" He asked it more as a rhetorical question, and, in fact, he hadn't even meant to say it out loud. Lorelai breathed in sharply, pulling her hands back and clasping them into fists.

She swallowed hard and looked away. "I can't even think about what I would do if this happened to Rory."

Luke leaned back slowly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. That was stupid."

Lorelai shook her head, expression drawn. "No, it's OK. I mean, it _actually_ happened to you. And Jess." She looked down at her fingers, now open and curled loosely around nothing. "Jess."

They were both quiet for a moment. She met Luke's gaze again. "I have no right to get squeamish."

"I think this is an instance where it's all right to squeam. It was thoughtless of me to suggest that, and I don't mean to – make you feel guilty or I don't even know what. I'm not thinking most of the time, Lorelai." His face scrunched up. "Is that a word? Squeam?"

"It sounds like it should be," she replied. "And no, Luke. This one isn't about me. I don't need any coddling or comfort. Let's just – never think of or mention that possibility again. I might throw up and faint at the same time and then choke on the vomit and die, so."

Luke half-smiled. "I know how you feel."

Lorelai's eyes were wet as she whispered "yeah," and took his hand again. She flattened it out, pressing his knuckles against the table, and ran her fingers across his palm.

"Do you have any ideas?" she asked. "About, I mean. Are you thinking about getting him therapy?"

Luke snorted. "Yeah. He's not really receptive to the idea." He'd managed to avoid thinking about that argument almost all day, distracting himself with the diner and being a jackass and the pictures. But now that was all so stupid and trivial. The important thing was, and had always been, Jess. He tried to swallow and practically choked. Lorelai titled her head at him, concerned, and he was almost afraid to share it all with her, to admit how scared and lost he felt. "Ah, God, Lorelai. I know I need to get him help, but he's not going to let me. He won't even – he didn't even -" Luke cut himself off**. **

"What?" she asked, kneading his hand softly.

"I think he might have lied to the police," he said, all in a rush, feeling like he was vomiting the words.

She sat back, shaking her head in disbelief. "What?"

"His statement – I don't know. I mean, he wouldn't tell me one way or the other if he lied to them, but he was trying to tell me that it – what happened – wasn't _that bad_ and I was so angry with him, Lorelai, I can't even tell you how much, but I couldn't get him to tell me what he told the police." His breathing was irregular and heavy and he felt scared, unsteady, getting it out in the open.

Lorelai looked stunned, her brow furrowed and expression far off. Her fingers tightened around his almost painfully hard. "Not bad," she mumbled, and he could see his own horror reflected in her face. After a moment, she refocused on Luke. "But I thought he consented to the rape kit."

"He did," Luke blurted, reeling in surprise at hearing her mention it. He didn't remember telling Lorelai anything about that, and it seemed unlikely that he would have, given that it was more probable he would puke his heart out of his mouth than speak the word.

"Oh," she said, still confused.

"Why?" Luke asked, rubbing his thumb over her fingers.

She shook her head. "No, I guess I just assumed. It just seems very odd that someone would consent to a rape kit and then tell the police nothing happened. I've heard it's a pretty harrowing experience. The rape kit." They both seemed to connect Jess to that statement – _a pretty harrowing experience _– at the same time. Lorelai looked away, and Luke felt his lungs get tight.

"But I don't know," she continued. "I mean, there's nothing to say that – a person in that position would be thinking rationally." She stumbled over her words where she would have said Jess' name. It was much easier to consider things like harrowing experiences and a person's mental state after them if it related to a generic hypothetical than Jess, sitting hunched in a dim hospital room. Luke took in a shaky breath, suddenly remembering what the nurse had said at the hospital when she'd mentioned Jess not wanting to do the rape kit – _something that would feel like another violation_. Luke was definitely going to be sick.

"At least you have that officer's number," Lorelai muttered, concentrating.

Luke looked up at her, confused, and she sat back, pressing her hands to her temples. "Oh! Oh my God, I forgot!" She stood from her chair so quickly she almost tripped over it and jogged out of the room. Luke blinked after her, then looked at his hand, still laying knuckles-down on the table and feeling cold now that Lorelai wasn't holding it. He wiggled his fingers. He didn't really like that he was getting used to feeling lost and stupid all of the time.

Lorelai came back digging through her purse. "Oh, Luke, I can't believe I forgot. The police stopped by the inn yesterday to talk to you, but you and Jess were out and I didn't know how they could reach you. They said to call." She paused, her head and arm almost entirely lost inside her bag. "Here!" She emerged, holding out a business card. "I'm so sorry. I was going to give it to you – this morning, actually, but I -" she stopped and grinned tightly. "Slipped my head."

He leaned forward to take it from her, chuckling dryly. "But I freaked out and yelled at you."

Lorelai shook her head. "It's not important. What's important is that you call them." She dropped her purse on the floor and sat down next to him again, propping her head up in the palm of her hand. She rubbed her eyes and laughed hollowly. "Not bad," she repeated, and he felt a guilty gratitude that she seemed to be as upset at he was. It was terrible – he was still having trouble getting his head around how disoriented and sick he felt, and he wouldn't have wished the feeling on anyone – but knowing Lorelai understood helped.

Luke tucked the card in his back pocket. He would call them tomorrow, and then he would call that nurse from the hospital. Too bad if Jess wanted to sabotage himself in every possible way, and too bad if that's what he was used to doing. Luke would do everything he could think of – no matter how idiotic or unlikely it was to accomplish anything – to keep Jess together. The determination exhilarated him, but his confidence was immediately chased by a fear and self-derision so powerful he lurched forward with it. He reached for Lorelai's hand this time, closing his fingers around hers in a grip that was probably painful.

She leaned closer, expression serious and concerned. It was coming on him in waves, the understanding he had started to glean in the diner. Luke had unknowingly stepped into the shoes of every adult who had let Jess down before now. And if Luke couldn't do this, there wasn't anyone else.

"I'm afraid," he said, looking her in the eye. He opened his mouth to keep going but instead he simply repeated it: "I'm afraid." He bowed his head, staring at the table. Lorelai's fingers drew light, absent circles on the back of his hand.

"Luke," she prompted softly. He looked at her again, feeling heavy everywhere. He wanted to say it, to tell her everything, if only so she could laugh at all of his fears and he could laugh, too, both of them laughing until tears poured down their cheeks and their jaws unhinged, because it was hilarious how terrified Luke was. That whenever he looked at Jess' bandages he thought of bloody messes on tile floors, that the image was on the back of Luke's eyelids when he blinked sometimes, surprising him. But it was more than that – it was the dark look in Jess' eyes, the feeling that Luke would never be able to reach him, the apartment with nothing of Jess' in it except a deflating air mattress, the impression that Jess was hardly there.

"I'm afraid of losing him."

Lorelai dropped her gaze, hooking her fingers through his. It looked like she was working up to say something, and part of him wanted her to tell him there was no way he would lose Jess, that of course he could do it. Luke could save him. But a larger part of him thought he would be angry with her for lying if she did.

"Well," Lorelai said at last. "I know it's not much, but I'll do whatever I can to help you. You just have to promise to ask me." He nodded, feeling oddly deflated that that was all the comfort she was offering, and angry with himself for it. "But I think – I think that, in all of this shit, Jess having you is like – the one lucky part of his life. If there's anyone in the world who can help that kid, it's you, Luke. You have just about the best heart of anyone I know."

He immediately scoffed, waving it off, but Lorelai cut him short with a sharp squeeze of his hand and a look so hard he momentarily worried she was angry. "I mean it," she said.

Luke felt the bizarre urge to chide her, to tell her to stop flattering him, but he knew she was being serious, and that frightened him, too. He dropped his gaze and breathed shallowly, unexpectedly humbled. He looked back to their joined hands, watching her fingertips track gently back and forth across his skin.

"I should get back to him," Luke mumbled, suddenly embarrassed that he didn't even know if Jess had come back to the inn. Lorelai nodded and sat back, sighing, pulling her hands back to her lap. Luke stared at his hand, old and work-worn, splayed by itself on the table.

"Thank you," he said, catching her eye again. She offered him a weak smile. He stood stiffly, awkwardly, and she walked him to the door in silence. They said subdued goodbyes and she made a move like she wanted to hug him, but turned the motion into a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

Luke walked out into the darkness, feeling a strange mixture of calm determination and absolute fear. _I'm all he has now_, he thought again, allowing himself a dry chuckle. _We're probably both screwed_.

to be continued


	7. Chapter 7

**notes**: Thanks, as always, to Jess, my beta, for constant support. To Prisc, for infinite patience. And, of course, to everyone who's reviewed. I'm so thankful for all of you.  


* * *

**(seven)**

Of course Jess' plan to force himself into normalcy didn't work, and it didn't help that he was still alone at home most of the time. Even after she had enough money to break rent on Ted's apartment, Liz didn't quit her second job. It surprised Jess, given how much she seemed to dislike the work and how tired she was, but what surprised him more was how disappointed he was that she wasn't around. When she was there, he pulled away from her and he never wanted to talk, but when she was gone, he missed her. He occupied himself with packing and running errands, telling himself things would get better once they moved.

The new apartment was small, but it was plenty of room for the two of them, especially since they had very little by way of furniture. And it was bare – the walls blank, the rooms unfamiliar – and Jess had no associations with any of it, emotional or otherwise. Its emptiness allowed him a space to breathe that he hadn't realized he had been missing. So he breathed easier and began a new school year in a new school, a new district, and he began tucking away pieces of himself he didn't want to see anymore.

Everything having to do with Ted – his uncontrollable bouts of weakness that manifested in his trembling hands or the spots of the day he just couldn't remember – he pushed it all into remote corners of his mind. He ignored the suspicion that Liz wasn't quitting either of her jobs for reasons that weren't financial. She wasn't touching or hugging him as much as she used to, but that was a good thing. Jess didn't want her attention or her pity. And he didn't want to be touched. Everything was working out for the best.

At least, it seemed that way for a while. Each passing week brought Jess a little more relief, a little more distance from his memories. He was getting better at detaching from situations and emotions that might overwhelm him, and life was turning into a functioning, if numb, routine. If he had the capacity to process what was happening around him, he might have put more thought into the way Liz watched him when they ate meals together. She was often edgy and nervous and would hardly look him in the eye. He tended to dismiss her nervousness out of hand as another thing associated with exactly what he didn't want to think about. He was getting over it, and so should Liz. His impatience with her apparent inability to move on resulted in Jess ignoring his mother most of the time.

So one morning as they were eating breakfast together, Jess didn't notice that Liz had been staring at him the entire time and hadn't touched her own meal at all. He was preoccupied thinking about school that day, and what he could do to get his English teacher off his case. She kept asking him how he was, and he kept telling her _fine_, but he had the feeling that she might just be annoying enough to escalate her concern into a conference with Liz. And that was one of the last things he wanted.

"Jess," she said at last, as he was getting to the dregs of his cereal bowl. She was leaning her cheek heavily on her fist, and it made her words come out a little funny.

He glanced up at her. "What?"

Liz brought her hand down to lace her fingers together on the table. She bit her lips and Jess stared into his bowl, his heart sinking. Maybe he could just get up and leave. He was sure that he didn't want to hear whatever she had to say. Maybe that damn teacher had already called. "Look at me, please."

He looked up reluctantly, and her gaze immediately dropped. "I was thinking," she said quickly, wringing her fingers with short, quick squeezes, "that maybe you should go to the doctor."

That was so far from what he'd expected her to say that his jaw actually dropped. "What? Why?" What had he done? He wasn't sick. Did she mean a psychologist? He squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn't crazy. He'd been doing so much better lately, and he thought that even though _he _had been worried about his head, he'd done a good job of keeping it from his mom.

"Jess." Liz touched his cheek and he startled, opening his eyes to see her yank her hand back. She looked so sad. Jess wanted to yell at her that he was fine. He wasn't crazy. He hardly ever blacked out any more.

"I – God." She pressed her fingers to her temples and dug her thumbs into the corners of her eyes. "Sweetie," she started again, sounding falsely calm. "Do you remember how I told you before that when two people have – have sex – they can get – get sick?"

Jess froze, certain he was hearing things incorrectly. His whole body was clammy and cold. He _did_ remember that conversation – a weird thing that hadn't made a lot of sense to him at the time. She had just broken up with a boyfriend, and, in between bouts of cursing the guy out, had taken Jess aside to lecture him on the importance of safe sex. Jess realized now what he hadn't fully understood then, which was that the guy had probably given something to Liz. Jess felt lightly nauseous.

But that didn't have anything to do with him, he reasoned, his head pounding. He was distracted, still worried that Liz might be talking about a psychologist rather than a medical doctor. Liz's mention of sexually transmitted diseases was a complete non sequitur. Maybe she was just changing the subject because she didn't want to worry him. Maybe she was just spouting random crap, but venereal disease had nothing to do with him.

He looked up at his mother, blinking rapidly. She was watching him expectantly, and he remembered that she had asked him a question. He nodded, his head pulsing and heavy.

"Well, I think you should get tested."

Jess swallowed back rising bile. His vision swam and lurched, and he gripped the sides of his chair to steady himself. This was unreal. He distantly thought that maybe he should be laughing, because there was just no way this wasn't a joke. Jess didn't know much of anything about venereal disease apart from the half-laughing horror stories he'd heard from kids at school. If you caught something, it was gruesome. There were boils involved or bloody piss or your dick fell off or whatever. Surely if he had something, it would have been apparent by now. He would at least _feel_ sick, and he didn't. But he hadn't felt completely normal – for such a long time that he couldn't remember exactly what healthy felt like. He just knew that it was different from the way he was now.

Maybe that's what Liz was talking about. Maybe she noticed something he never did because she knew about these things, because at least one of her exes had given her something. Maybe that was why she hardly touched him anymore.

"Did," Jess said after a long pause, his voice shaky and quiet, "did he give _you_ something?"

Liz sighed and covered her eyes. "Well," she replied, her tone taking on the casual airiness she got when she was, in her words, avoiding the truth. "I don't think so. There was this little problem I was still having when we first got together, but we used protection. I don't think it's likely." She swallowed hard and dropped her hands to give him an imploring look. "It's such a small chance, sweetie. But I really think you should go to the doctor just to make sure."

Jess watched her for what felt like a long time. Understanding was coming on him in little steps, and he didn't want to make the connection he knew was forming in his mind. Liz had something when she had sex with Ted. And maybe Ted gave it to him. Following the logical train of thought, it was possible, in a roundabout way, that Jess had contracted a venereal disease from his mother.

Jess was blinking away the blur in his vision, feeling strangely calm, when he got sick on the table. He didn't mean to, didn't even feel the telltale sting of bile at the back of his throat, but he just sort of hiccupped and there it was. He must have lost a moment or two of time, because his awareness skipped from feeling his breakfast coming up out of his mouth to being bent low over the table, his hands spread out on either side of his cereal bowl.

As his surroundings came back into focus, he realized he was staring directly into the bowl, where the very slightly digested bit of his breakfast floated with what he hadn't eaten yet. The sight made him retch again, and he could hear the watery _plop_ of his vomit spilling into the milk. He groaned and breathed in deeply, trying to focus his thoughts, but the smell of bile and sour milk filled his nose and he knew he was going to be sick again.

He pushed his chair back blindly, sweaty palms making light squeaky noises as he dragged them over the surface of the table. He heard Liz's chair slide back, too, and he pushed away harder, not knowing why but feeling urgently that he didn't want Liz near him. Before he could even stand, though, his stomach clenched again and he slid down from the chair to his knees, clinging to the edge of the table. He threw up on the tiles, vaguely surprised that he even had enough food in his stomach to vomit so much in so little time. His eyes and his throat strung.

Liz's hand was on his back, rubbing between his shoulder blades, and he jerked away from her. "Don't touch me," he gasped. "Don't touch me."

She pulled away but stayed beside him, her legs peripherally visible beyond his outstretched arm. Jess rested his head in the crook of his elbow for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut. His head hurt so much he could hardly think, but that was all right, because he didn't want to think about anything. At that moment, all he wanted to do was stop throwing up. He breathed deeply through his mouth, fighting back the waves of nausea that rolled through him.

It wasn't going to work, though, which Jess realized as he gagged again. He stood carefully but quickly, taking shaky steps to the bathroom. He didn't turn around but he could hear Liz right behind him, following him. Without looking at her, he slammed the bathroom door shut and locked it. He managed to get the toilet lid up just in time to throw up into the bowl, although at this point all he had left in him was the bile, and the only thing a wrenching heave of his stomach produced was a mouthful of foul-tasting stomach acid.

Jess lifted the toilet seat and rested his head against the rim, letting most of his face hang over the bowl. It smelled nasty but the cool porcelain felt good against his overheated skin. He closed his eyes and ignored the sound of Liz shuffling just outside the door. She tried the knob, and for a second he was worried she might get in even though he had locked it, but the door didn't budge. Jess, exhausted, settled into a posture that required the least amount of energy for him to maintain and waited for Liz to leave.

Half an hour later, they were both in the same position. Apart from a few rounds of dry heaving, he hadn't thrown up again, but he stayed where he was, letting the toilet support him. The tile floor hurt his knees and his neck was cramping, but his muscles were useless and even moving his hand to wipe his mouth was an enormous effort. He felt like his body had been turned inside out, scraped clean, and roughly reassembled. There was a raw burning all over him that started in his stomach and extended up to his esophagus, and even his sinuses ached. His breath stung the inside of his throat and nose.

Jess stared at a spot on the wall, unfocused and unseeing. He imagined Liz was sitting as close to the door as possible, maybe sitting cross-legged with her knees pressed up against the wood and her head hanging like she did on the rare occasions she tried to apologize to him. Irritated, Jess wondered if she was skipping work for this. It seemed like a huge waste of income.

She'd tried talking to him a little bit, but he hadn't answered. He hoped she would give up soon and go away. Go to work, leave him alone, like she had been doing over the past few months. He got through his days and she got through hers and they didn't talk about it, they didn't talk about anything, and it had been working just fine. He'd thought they were fine.

He should have known, he realized vaguely, rolling his head against the rim of the toilet. He should have guessed that something like this would happen. Liz had never given him any indication in the past that she could handle anything, even the most basic tasks required to take care of _herself_, so he had no idea where his belief that they would be all right had come from. Of course his mother would have inadvertently given him a venereal disease. He was a fuck up and Liz was a fuck up, and this was what they did.

"Jess," Liz said softly, evidently determined to get him to talk. Something brushed against the door, and Jess had a mean thought that at least she wasn't stupid enough to try the handle _again_ – she'd been tugging on it every couple of minutes as though it would magically unlock itself.

"Come on, baby. Jess. Please, open the door." He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, trying to drown her out with the dull, annoying buzz in his head. His eyeballs ached.

"Jess, I just want to make sure you're all right. If you have something, then a doctor could fix it." Jess snorted and the sound echoed lightly off the inside of the toilet bowl. It was a little late to make sure he was all right. "Come on," Liz continued, her voice taking on an edge of impatience. "It's not like it's AIDS or anything."

Jess groaned, banging his forehead off of the toilet, wishing with everything he had in him that she would just shut up. "He got tested, you know, right when we first started … being together, and he was completely clean. And I didn't really have much of anything. It was practically gone, you know, and – I mean, we almost always used protection, so there's hardly any chance that you're sick at all, but you should go to be safe."

Jess didn't know what part she was lying about, but it seemed to him that she wouldn't push so hard about this if she didn't have more than a passing worry that Jess might have contracted something from Ted. From _her_. But he didn't care at the moment. He was sick and shivery and all he wanted was to be left alone. And wasn't it hilarious that when he actually _wanted_ Liz to go away, she wouldn't give up? Between the two of them, they couldn't get a single thing right.

"Shut up," he moaned, lifting his head and pressing the heel of his hand into his eye.

"Jess. There's a clinic not far away. It's just a couple of bus stops. I could even go with you."

He laughed roughly, bringing himself up to his knees. "I'm _twelve_," he rasped, throat raw. "Don't you think they'd call _family services_?" He didn't know what the policy was on that, but he was pretty sure a twelve-year-old boy asking to be tested for sexually transmitted diseases would ping someone's alarm.

"Well," Liz replied evenly, "I wouldn't go in with you. I meant I could ride the bus with you. And you – you wouldn't have to give your real name or phone number. I have a P.O. box they could mail the results to. They might not call the police right away."

It sounded like Liz had been planning this. _Christ_. A fake name and a P.O. box. That would sure fool them. He had a surreal vision of getting a big, boldly-lettered envelope in the mail, with all the pomp of Publisher's Clearing House, and reading: _Congratulations, Kilgore Trout! You've just won __venereal disease__from your mother_!

Jess' head, already muddled and aching, gave a disorienting lurch that made him clutch the counter for support. His palm, clammy and slick with sweat, slipped, and his shoulder hit the cabinet with a heavy impact that was much louder than it was painful.

"…Jess? Are you all right?"

"Shut up," he said again, raising his voice.

"Baby, _please_. I would never ask you to do this if it wasn't important. I just – don't want you to be hurt at all."

And just like that, Ted was back in his head, vivid memories tumbling out of all of the places Jess had hidden them. Ted had whispered commands in his ear to _be still, Jess, I don't want to hurt you._ His body lurched as his stomach cramped viciously again, and he gritted his teeth against his rising gorge. He _knew_ there was nothing left to throw up, and he was furious with his body for being so weak. He was angry with his trembling fingers and wobbly legs, and he was livid with Ted, with Liz.

Why did Liz have to push it? Why did she have to bring it up? If she was so concerned about his well-being, why did it take her _months_ to ask him about it? And why now, after he'd gone through so much trouble to push it out of his head? All she'd seemed concerned with at first was whether or not she'd get the police called on her ass. Now she was pretending like she was worried about him, like he was all she ever worried about. He wanted to yell at her, but he was overwhelmed, his senses flooding with everything he hadn't been thinking or feeling since it happened.

He remembered the weight of Ted's body, his hot fingers on Jess' stomach. He had been so confused, terrified, because this wasn't Ted – Ted wouldn't do this, wouldn't hurt him, and by the time he realized that he really did need to fight, it was too late. Not that his limited struggle had done anything. Ted had simply asked him again to _be still, be good. I wish you would let it be good_. Jess pressed his palms to his forehead and groaned.

Liz's voice cut into his thoughts again – some stupid babbling nonsense about how much she cared about him. It was all so much bullshit. People were always lying to him – and it seemed Liz especially – and he was sick of it. Jess pulled himself to the door, clinging onto the knob with one hand and pounding the other angrily against the wood. Liz cut off mid-sentence.

"Shut up!" Jess screamed anyway. "Shut the fuck! Up!" He slammed his open palm against the door with every word. He didn't know when he had started crying, but his eyes were wet and his voice was thick, which only fueled his temper. He balled his hand into a fist and beat it against the door, and he kept hitting it until well after it hurt – until his energy was drained, but not his anger.

He closed his eyes and rested his weight heavily against the wall. His breathing was loud and uneven in his ears. He sounded like a child, like a weakling. The disgust he felt with himself sent cramps rippling through him.

He heard a light swish of clothing – Liz was standing or moving. Maybe she was going to jimmy the door open. It was locked, but it wasn't difficult to pick – all it really took was jamming something in the hole in the knob. His frantic anger rolled through his belly and up into his chest as Liz's footsteps moved away. Jess pressed his hands flat against the door, bracing himself. Just let her force it open. He would fight until he passed out, and then let Liz drag her diseased son to the clinic on her own if it was that important to her, but he wasn't about to give in.

Jess rested his head on the door, listening for Liz's return. He waited like that for a long time, and it wasn't until he heard her walk by the bathroom, keys jingling, and leave through the front door, that he realized she wasn't going to come back for him.

* * *

Time oozed by in a quick-slow crawl that pulled Jess along, unprotesting. Luke wanted to go apartment hunting again, which pissed Jess off, but he went. In a stroke of odd good fortune, Lorelai came with. Her nervous exuberance, at the least, glossed over how uncomfortable they all were. And her incessant talking excused Jess from having to give an opinion on anything or even pay attention.

She bullied Luke into applying for some hardwood monstrosity that was obviously more an indication of her taste than theirs. Jess was only a little bemused at how easily Luke gave in, despite his list of – in Jess' opinion – perfectly valid reasons not to take the apartment. Jess was relieved – and he thought Luke was too – when their application was rejected, and they wound up settling on a much more reasonable place. It was still bigger than Jess thought they needed, but it had carpet and tile and windows with normal proportions. He just couldn't picture Luke and himself in any apartment that a realtor could honestly describe as _august_.

He just wanted to get out of the inn. While Luke was working at the diner, Jess had nothing to do but wander the grounds, and when Luke was _there_, he had nothing to do but bear the weight of uncomfortable silence until he cracked and left the room. And wandered the grounds. There was only so long aimless wandering held appeal for Jess, and that time frame had ended about a week ago. If nothing else, moving would provide a change of pace.

The apartment was open immediately, so he and Luke took their bags and checked out of the inn ten days after the first night they'd spent there. Before they left, Luke gripped Lorelai's hand over the reception desk and thanked her with a quiet sincerity that Jess recognized for what it was, even if neither Luke or Lorelai would. He stood back, impatient but impassive and watched as Lorelai leaned close to his uncle and told him something Jess couldn't hear, but that he guessed was deeply meaningful and touching. He let out an unconscious sigh of irritation and Lorelai looked up at him, offering a brief smile accompanied with an expression he didn't want to read. He tipped his head to her and looked away.

When Luke and Lorelai were done fawning over each other, Jess gave Lorelai a curt "goodbye," the "thanks" he felt he should add sticking in the back of his throat. He strode impatiently to the truck, chucking his bag in the back. Luke gave him a questioning look when he slammed his door shut behind him, but Jess shook his head in reply. "Just go," he said, and Luke nodded.

Their new place was in a small building with a total of twenty apartments on a quiet, shady street reasonably removed from the center of town. But Jess still clocked the walking distance to the diner at somewhere between five and seven minutes, plus the ten seconds it took to get down the flight of stairs from their second-story apartment. The stupid town was way too small.

Luke opened the door for him and Jess went straight through the empty living room to his bedroom, dumping his duffel in the middle of the floor. He walked back out to find Luke taking a slow turn around the kitchen. He ran a hand over his chin and gave Jess a wry look.

"So I guess we better get the rest of our things," Luke mumbled, opening an empty cabinet and sounding a little embarrassed.

That phrase– _our things _– struck Jess as strange. There wasn't anything _our_ about the stuff in Luke's old place. It was Luke's, or it was Jess'. And most of Jess' possessions were currently in a duffel bag in the middle of his otherwise empty bedroom.

Jess shrugged. "Well, _I'm_ already all moved in." He pointed over his shoulder at his room.

Luke gave him an exasperated look and Jess half expected some comment on how unhelpful his attitude was. But all he got was a quiet, "I'd appreciate it if you came with me, Jess."

He glanced away, uncomfortable with Luke's tone. "Whatever."

The drive to the diner was quiet and strained, even though it only lasted a couple of minutes. Luke seemed to get increasingly restless as they neared their destination, his expression tightening. Jess sighed as Luke put the truck in park, his fingers tapping restlessly on the wheel. Luke's edgy discomfort was wearing hard on Jess' nerves, and he didn't want to wait around to find out what the matter was.

Jess unbuckled and made for the door when Luke spoke up. "Wait, Jess, I was thinking…" he trailed off and Jess turned to him, eyebrows raised.

Luke bowed his head. "Maybe you could just wait out here with the truck while I go get some things."

"Why would I do that?"

"So you could load up while I go … get more things."

Jess blinked. "Why?" he repeated warily, guessing that whatever Luke's reasoning was, he didn't actually want to hear it.

"Just… because. You know."

"No I don't."

"Jess," Luke said wearily. "I was just thinking you might not want to go inside."

"The diner."

Luke gestured lamely with his hands. "The apartment."

Jess grit his teeth, prickling with irritation. "I don't know what you think I _am_, Luke, but I won't burst into tears or have a breakdown or _swoon_ just by setting foot inside the diner! I can handle going inside to pack and lift boxes. But you think I'm – what? Too emotionally unstable? Fuck that." He jerked the door open and stepped out onto the sidewalk, ignoring Luke's exasperated requests for him to wait.

Luke strode over to him, cutting off his path to the diner's door. "Jess, hey, I didn't mean it like that." He lowered his voice, eyes darting nervously, and Jess exhaled heavily through his nose. He _did not_ want to have this discussion at all, let alone in public.

"Fine," Jess bit out. "Let's just go in, then."

Luke sighed and stepped aside, indicating for Jess to lead. He hadn't taken two steps for the stairs when the door opened and Miss Patty came out.

"Oh, Luke, honey!" she called, tossing the corner of her brightly-colored shawl over her shoulder. Jess took an involuntary step back and Luke shot him a bemused look.

"We were just talking about how much we missed seeing you every day. I'm so glad I caught you before I left." She grabbed Luke's arm and gave it a warm squeeze, turning her attention to Jess.

"And Jess! We haven't seen you at _all_. We missed you. How are you feeling?"

Jess' eyebrows dipped, wondering if Patty was using the Royal 'we.' Even so, he couldn't imagine that was true, except in the sense of wanting something to gossip about. She didn't seem concerned at his lack of reply, but leaned in to eye him closely, and he almost took another step backward. He hadn't looked at himself in the mirror in a long time, so he didn't even know if there was any visible indication of physical harm for her to notice.

Patty made a soft _tsk_-ing noise and looked back to Luke. "It's all so terrible! Nobody can believe it. I just hope that man who did it _burns_ in _hell_." Jess' lip curled, agitation making his fingers shaky. She gave Jess a look of exaggerated sympathy, raising her hands in some fruity dramatic gesture or to touch him, he didn't know, but it was the last of what he could handle. He turned on his heel and stalked away, a low, pulsing ache starting at the back of his head.

He heard a soft "oh _my_" behind him and Luke's abrupt apology, followed by jogging footsteps. Luke was beside him quickly, trying to catch his eye. Jess refused to acknowledge him.

"Jess, you're going the wrong way."

"No I'm not."

"Well, the diner's back there." He pointed behind them, keeping pace with Jess.

"Any way that's in the opposite direction of Patty isn't the wrong way."

Luke let out a sharp, aggravated burst of air. "Jess, I know she's a lot to handle, but she means -"

"Whatever," Jess cut in. "I don't care."

"You can slow down, at least."

Jess stopped and turned on Luke angrily. "Hey, I have another idea. Why don't you stop following me around and go back to the diner to pack up on your own? Evidently I'm too frail to go inside anyway, and I forgot to bring my smelling salts."

"Jess -"

"Just cram whatever shit's mine in a box and put it in my room. I don't care. I'll find it; I _live_ there. But for right now, leave me alone. I don't want to talk about Patty or the other crazy townies who all think my life is their personal business. And I don't want to talk about my _feelings_ or argue with you about how fragile I am! So do me a favor, Luke, and for once, just go!"

Luke shifted nervously and Jess almost screamed in frustration. "You'll come back to the apartment later?" It came out as more of a command than a question and Jess rolled his eyes.

"I always do, don't I?" Since they hadn't actually lived in the new apartment for a full day, the pedantic answer would be _no_, but Luke seemed to accept it. No matter how many times Jess left, he came back. The thought annoyed him, although he couldn't pinpoint exactly why.

"When do you think you'll be home?" Luke asked, looking down. That word – _home _– sent another spike of irritation through him.

"Later," he said, tossing his hands in the air and turning to go.

"Jess!"

Jess turned back but continued in the same direction, walking backwards. "Today, OK? I'll be back today. Later." He put on a sarcastic smile and waggled his fingers at Luke. "Bye."

Jess walked for a very long time, taking every secluded, little-known or seldom-used path in Stars Hollow, going far enough that he thought he probably left town limits. He fished a cigarette out of the inside pocket of his coat. It was the last he had of the pack he'd bummed from a man at the inn – if "bum" were to be used as a euphemism for "steal," which it frequently was in Jess' mind. He'd been saving it until he could get his hands on another pack, not wanting to leave himself completely without, but he needed to smoke, to occupy his hands, to do something.

He sat down on the side of a woody path, propping himself up against a tree trunk. The ground was hard and cold, and the chill of the earth hit him immediately through his jeans, sending shivers across his shoulders and down his back. He put the cigarette in his mouth, leaving it unlit for a moment, and leaned his head back, breathing in deeply through his nose. At times, he worried about his temper. It was something almost apart from him, something he wasn't entirely sure he could control. Just like everything else. Like his trembling hands, like his whole goddamn life. So far, his anger hadn't completely escaped him, but he could feel it stirring almost all of the time. He was in a constant state of flux, careening between numbness and fury without any warning. But even when he hardly felt anything, he was aware of that anger, roiling under the surface of his skin.

He wasn't mad at Luke. He knew that in a distant and rational part of his mind, and he was even aware of some form of gratitude to his uncle, but that didn't help ease the stifling frustration he felt whenever he was with Luke. Jess could _feel_ Luke's attention on him, even when they weren't talking, even at night, when they were both pretending to be asleep. If Jess moved or made a noise, Luke would shift, too. It made even being in the same room with him close to unbearable. Granted, Jess hadn't spent a hell of a lot of time actually _in_ the same room with Luke, but that oppressive discomfort was always there. And even worse than the ceaseless attention were the times when Luke tried to talk to him, stuttering and shuffling, about Jess' life or how he was feeling or that fucking police statement.

Jess had told the truth. It wasn't his intention to make Luke worry, but it was none of Luke's business, and Jess didn't want to admit that the truth was that he remembered very little of what happened. His memory of that night was in pieces, and he could cobble together enough to know what happened without actually remembering it. Even without his head functioning properly, the memory of it was impressed on his body. He knew from the way his hands hurt that he had gotten a few hits in. His head was tender and ached almost all of the time, although not nearly as badly as it had in the hospital - but that part he didn't need to be reminded of. He remembered his back hitting the ground, and then his head. He remembered a hand on his forehead, pushing him back down when he wouldn't lie still, slamming his skull into the wood floor. He had told Jess to be calm, that he just wanted to talk, and Jess had laughed at him, bitter, manic, and disbelieving. His raw wrists – now unwrapped – his mind shied away from. He remembered bits of Luke and Lorelai, but a lot was muddled and incoherent, and everything else was just blank. White noise.

He tried to leave it alone, because actively thinking about that night or the afternoon from many years ago made him unsteady in a way that frightened him. He felt like he was crumbling. Like there were maggots hatching all over his skin. He would gladly forget it all if he could, but no one was letting him. Given time, they would all get over it, would all remember what Jess was and let him get on with his life, but in the meantime, they were all driving him insane. Lorelai's sympathetic eyes, Luke's tense and nervous shuffling, Patty's _we've missed you_. Rory's bag of books.

Jess opened his eyes, and even the modest daylight hurt his head. He took out a book of matches he'd pilfered from the inn and flipped it over, running a thumb over the logo. He paused and leaned forward, pulling a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket. It was the pamphlet Luke had brought back from the hospital, that he'd actually tried to use to convince Jess to go into therapy. Jess had found it in the bedside table, mentally cursing Luke for leaving it someplace so obvious. Any member of the cleaning staff could have easily found it there. For similar reasons, Jess hadn't wanted to just throw it in any trash, so he kept it, planning to destroy it at a later time.

He dropped the pamphlet in his lap and struck a match, breathing in the familiar burst of sulfur. He lit the cigarette first, taking in a long, steadying lungful of smoke. He unfolded the pamphlet with one hand, snorting derisively at the art on the front. He flipped it over and read the handwritten names and addresses on the back. For help. The nurse who had given it to Luke had been the one who tried to hunt down clothes for Jess, who hadn't quite looked Jess in the eye when she'd apologized that it was taking so long. Before he'd been discharged, she had offered him the plastic bag that had his old clothes – the ones he had come in wearing.

"Do you want these?" she had asked, her face revealing nothing, not pity or disgust.

Jess had given one sharp shake of the head. "Incinerate them."

He looked down at his hands now, one holding the pamphlet and the other holding the still-lit match, now burning close to his fingertips. He touched them together, holding the flame to the edge of the pamphlet, which caught fire quickly. Jess shook out the match and tossed it to the ground, then held the pamphlet out sideways, watching it burn. After a moment, he tossed that to the ground, too. He smoked slowly, watching the paper crisp and curl. Cathartic, maybe. Juvenile, probably, but ultimately practical. This way no one would find it, especially not Luke.

Jess stayed like that until well after the cigarette was finished and his position against the tree had gotten uncomfortable. He stood slowly, various dull aches in his body pulling up memories more tactical than mental. He worked his way back to the center of town slowly, meandering. Even though Luke's apartment was small, there was no way he had finished packing and moving everything between late morning and late afternoon, especially if he was alone. Jess might as well help. Word would have gotten out by now that he had been rude to Patty, which might buy him some space from other townies.

Jess sighed inwardly as the high school came into view. Luke had already told him, looking tense and ready for a fight, that Jess had to go back to school the following Monday. Jess had conceded without even the appearance of resisting. He didn't have the energy to keep having the same fight with Luke, and it wasn't as though he couldn't skip classes if he didn't feel like going. On the days he wanted to attend, it would give him something to do, and in the meantime would get Luke off his back – about that particular topic, at any rate.

He was distracted enough that he didn't notice Taylor approaching him with a look of self-satisfied condescension until they were practically face-to-face. Even after Taylor asked him about his health, Jess assumed Taylor wasn't talking to him until he heard the question repeated, this time with greater enunciation.

"What?" Jess asked, stopping just short of bumping into Taylor's shoulder.

"I _asked_ how you were feeling." Jess glanced around, still confused, but Taylor, now certain that Jess was paying attention to him, didn't give him a chance to answer. "I've been concerned," he said, and Jess was sure that he was going at least a little crazy until Taylor continued, "about what this break-in might mean for Stars Hollow."

At Jess' incredulous look, Taylor added, "Of course I'm worried about you and Luke as well, but since the both of you seem basically unscathed from the incident, it's time that we all consider the greater ramifications of crime on this scale. Something like this could ruin the town's reputation. I, for one, would be _mortified_ if the general impression people got was that Stars Hollow was an easily pregnable hamlet full naïve, trusting rubes. Rubes who leave their doors unlocked and open, just waiting for someone to waltz in and steal their valuables."

Jess didn't get the chance to offer his opinion that Stars Hollow was exactly that, because Taylor wasn't done speaking and probably would have ignored anything Jess had to say anyway. "That kind of thing might bring in more of the undesirable element that committed the atrocity in the first place. And with an influx of _criminals_, suddenly Stars Hollow isn't an appealing place to visit anymore. The whole thing is just terrible."

Taylor paused then, looking at Jess like he expected some sort of reaction. "Gosh, that's _awful_," Jess said, ignoring the better judgment that told him not to speak to Taylor at all.

"Yes, it_ is_ awful," Taylor said, giving Jess the closest thing to a warm look he'd ever gotten from the man. "I'm looking into making it a regulation that all business owners properly defend themselves against this same kind of fiendish assault. Hindsight is 20/20, but the two of you might have wanted to get a security system a while ago. I'm not trying to suggest that it's anyone's fault that it happened, but, just between you and me, a break-in would have been much less likely to occur if the diner was secured with more than a deadbolt."

Jess' mouth pressed into a tight line, a cold, controlled anger leaking into his bloodstream. "Thanks, Taylor. And, you know, just between you and me, you might want to consider fucking yourself."

It took Taylor a moment to register Jess' words, and it was an amazing moment to watch his face dissolve from complacence to bug-eyed fury. His mouth opened and he let out a few incoherent splutters while Jess enjoyed a rare moment of satisfaction. "You!" Taylor finally yelled. "Get out of the park!"

"What?"

"As the town selectman, I have the authority to put our laws into effect! And I am hereby ejecting you from the town square for being willfully and unrepentantly profane in a public place!"

"That's a _law_?"

Taylor nodded vigorously. "Oh, you don't even know the beginning of it! I could have you permanently banned!"

Jess rolled his eyes but squared his shoulders, preparing to tell Taylor everything he'd wanted to say to him since his first day in town. The anticipation of screaming more profanity at him felt sharply, viciously _good_, and he was about to let loose fouler language than Taylor probably had ever though existed when he caught sight of the diner. The people sitting at the tables in the front windows – people Jess didn't even recognize – were watching them.

Taylor was still yelling at him, his arms waving angrily, briefly blocking his line of sight. A couple of people noticed that Jess had seen them observing and looked away, but most of them continued to stare.

Fuck the whole town. Getting to the diner wasn't worth this. He turned and headed out of the square, making sure he cut through the park on the way.

"Stop that!" Taylor yelled from behind him. "You aren't allowed on that grass anymore!"

Jess hunched his shoulders and didn't acknowledge him. He hadn't started the day with the intent to re-alienate the entire town. It was just the side-effect of his natural charm.

He didn't wander as far this time, and though he expected that he would run into yet another person who would want to waylay him with their false concern, he figured he would be able to scowl them into leaving him alone. What he hadn't considered, and that was just an unacceptable lack of foresight on his part, was that he might see Rory.

Jess noticed her approach when he was halfway down the street, and, if her purposeful stride was any indication, she had already seen him and was heading his way. He seriously weighed the option of just ignoring her and taking off in a different direction. He'd be treating her just like he had everyone else that day, not that she would know it. He glanced around at the street names, mentally planning his exit, and wondered what on earth she was even doing down this path. It wasn't, as far as he knew, on the way to her house or the diner, which were the only two places in town he was aware of Rory ever going.

She slowed her pace as she got closer and he stopped entirely. He couldn't believe his shitty luck. He clamped down on his emotions, sticking his hands in his pockets. He didn't think he was shaking but he couldn't tell sometimes.

"Hey," she said, dragging her feet along the ground and swinging her hips uncomfortably.

He glanced at her face once. "Hey." His palms itched for a cigarette.

She gave a soft, nervous laugh. "So," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

The silence spread awkwardly between them. "You haven't been around much lately," she said at last.

"Nope," he agreed, not looking at her. He could tell she was watching him, waiting for him to offer more, and he was glad for her discomfort.

"You haven't even been at the diner."

Jess nodded. "That's true."

"Are you coming back? To the diner? You know, to work? I know you guys moved, but Luke's been back a bit. You haven't. Or I haven't seen you there. Were you planning on – on coming back?"

He looked at her then, expression closed. He rolled a shoulder in a half-shrug and turned away again. His headache throbbed in time with his pulse.

Rory made a light noise of frustration. "I don't know if anyone's ever told you this, but you can be pretty hard to read."

"Inscrutable. I've heard it before." She ducked her head and scuffed a toe over the ground. Her mouth was pulling up in a small, nervous smile, and she looked like she was about to speak again, but Jess cut her off before she got a chance. "So why don't you just go talk to Dean? I can't imagine he's any great puzzle."

Rory was instantly upset, all sign of amusement wiped off her face. She hit her thigh angrily with an open palm. "God! Why do you do that? Why do you always bring up Dean?"

Jess felt a twinge of annoyance at Rory's obliviousness. Yes, what on earth would be the motivation behind a guy's antagonistic dislike of a pretty girl's boyfriend? Mysterious.

Part of him was grateful for her willful blindness. If Rory were more inclined to self-awareness, she might have realized his attention for what it was. She might have allowed him to get close, to touch her with his maggot-itchy skin and his weak, unsteady fingers. His throat burned.

Rory crossed her arms, her expression tight. "What does Dean have to do with us being friends, anyway?"

Jess snorted. "Friends."

Rory's eyes sparked. "Yes, friends! You said so yourself. You said, 'we're friends.'"

"That's bullshit."

She took a step back from him, hands clenching into fists, and she opened her mouth to retort, but stopped, and stood there with her jaw hanging open.

"What?" she said at last.

Jess finally turned to fully face her, looking her in the eye. "What do you even know about me, Rory? That I'm literate? Wow, great, you've cracked the code – let's tell each other all our secrets." She took in a sharp breath, but Jess continued. "Except, wait. I don't remember you ever sharing anything personal about yourself with me. What makes you think that I owe you anything? Just that you lent me a bag of books? Gosh, thanks. I don't have _any_ of those."

Jess had never seen that look on her face before. It was some combination of surprise, disbelief, and outright fury. He wondered if anyone in her life had the gall to reject her doe-eyed offers of friendship before. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes looked a little wet, but Jess couldn't tell if it was out of frustration or hurt. Either way, her building tears didn't move him, and he held her gaze unflinchingly.

"You're an _ass_," she spat.

He laughed, a short, barking noise that hurt his throat. "Congratulations on being the last person in town to figure that one out."

Rory took in a deep breath, looking like she was working up a great comeback. She grit her teeth and made a frustrated gesture with her hand. "I want my books back!"

"Great," he bit out, lacing the word with as much sarcasm as he could muster. "I didn't ask you for those."

"Yeah, sorry for doing something nice! Trust me, it'll be the last time!" She turned and took off down the path with long, angry strides.

"Damn, what am I gonna do without your boundless generosity?" He called after her. "It's not like there are any libraries or bookstores around."

Rory whipped her head around to glare at him, but she kept walking, her arms tucked tightly to her chest. He watched her go, feeling an inexplicable sense of calm come over him.

Jess came back with the last traces of light hanging in the sky. He walked in to the apartment to the sound of Luke working in the kitchen and muttering under his breath. The activity paused as the door shut behind him, and a moment later, Luke called, "Jess?"

_No, it's Santa Claus_. But Jess just replied, "Yeah." He lingered by the door, glancing around the living room. There were boxes everywhere, some in stacks, some open and half-unpacked. Jess felt something like remorse that Luke had evidently done a lot of moving that day without assistance. He chased the feeling away with the thought that Luke probably had every busybody in town tripping after him, offering their help. _Someone_ had to have given Luke a hand with the couch – the only bit of furniture in the room.

Jess shuffled slowly toward the kitchen. It looked like Luke had focused most of his energy on this room to the neglect of the others. The table and chairs were set up, the counters clean and organized, and there was a small pile of empty boxes in the corner. Jess looked down at a box on the floor and used his foot to slide it over to the cabinets. He took off his coat, tossed it over the back of a chair, and sat down beside the box, flipping the flaps open and selecting the cabinet closest to him to fill.

Luke was at the opposite end of the room, putting food away in the pantry. He looked at Jess, eyebrows raised in mild surprise. Jess stared back, daring Luke to say anything about him helping. But Luke just continued his work, the smallest of smiles toying at his mouth. Jess scowled and started pulling out dishes at random.

They worked together in comfortable silence, Luke going about business methodically and Jess mostly just sticking things wherever they would fit. Jess felt some small bit of tension draining out of him, leaving an aching echo in his arms and back. As his mind cleared and his anger ebbed away, exhaustion started to work its way in. It was a welcome feeling, though. Jess might get some sleep if he wore himself down.

"How do you even have so much shit for the kitchen?" Jess grumbled after a long period of uninterrupted quiet. "Are you a woman?"

Luke snorted. "No. And those don't go in that cupboard." Jess turned to look at Luke, who was indicating an open cabinet. "They go here."

Without breaking eye contact, Jess continued to put the dishes where he had been. Luke sighed.

Jess turned his attention back to the box. "Where did all these dishes come from? I don't remember there being this much before. I swear this is like fifty times what Liz has."

"Well, that's not surprising," Luke said after a few awkward harrumphs. "Liz was never really one for domestic touches."

Jess smirked. "But _you_ are?"

"_No_. That isn't what I meant. I just take pride in having something nicer around than paper plates and plastic cups. There's nothing wrong with that. And I don't have too many dishes. It's a normal amount of dishes."

"You've got like five pots! How many people do you ever cook for at a time? And look at all of these _mugs_. Are you planning on having a tea party anytime soon?"

"The pots are different sizes for cooking different things! And –" Luke cut himself off, sighing. "Nevermind. You're right, Jess. It's hilarious how many dishes I have."

Jess stole a glance at Luke. He sounded genuinely tired, and he didn't look great either. Jess frowned down at the cups in his hands and considered, briefly, putting them in the cabinet Luke said they belonged. The indecision was short lived, and Jess stuck the dishes haphazardly in the cupboard he was sitting in front of. He'd told Luke not to worry about him. It wasn't his fault if Luke wouldn't let it go.

"By the way, Jess," Luke said, "have you, uh. Have you spoken to your mother recently?"

Jess stared at Luke, who was keeping his head bent, seemingly absorbed in reading a cereal box. After a moment of silence, Luke looked at him, expression tense. Jess continued to stare, hoping to telegraph to Luke what a stupid question that was.

"And tell her _what_, exactly?" Jess asked. Like he was really going to call Liz up to chat about _anything_. The way Jess saw it, Liz had washed her hands of him when she put him on the bus to Stars Hollow. She'd hardly had any contact with him since he left, and it seemed to him that she didn't want him in her life anymore. He wasn't about to protest or try to change that.

"Oh, right," Luke said, ducking behind the pantry door again. "Yeah. OK."

Jess hardly heard him. The persistent ache at the back of his head bloomed into an angry, painful buzzing that drowned out other thoughts. The box he'd been unpacking was almost completely empty, but suddenly he didn't feel like finishing. He was restless and irritated and he had to get out of the kitchen. Jess stood abruptly, shutting the cabinet door with more force than was strictly necessary.

"I'm going to bed."

"Um," Luke called, and Jess paused in the doorway. "Thanks for the help."

Jess just snorted and continued into his bedroom, reveling in the novelty of having a door to close behind him. He sighed, pressing his hands to his temples and making a quick survey of the room. The air mattress was pushed up against the wall, made up with what looked like new sheets and a pillow. A dresser he didn't recognize, but that looked used, sat in the corner. The only other things in the room were his duffel and a box of what Jess guessed was the rest of his things. And the bag of books Rory brought him.

Jess' heart skittered to a stop and he froze, staring at it, before grabbing it. He hadn't brought it with him from the inn, assuming that someone on the cleaning staff would find it and take it to Lorelai, and she would give it back to Rory. He looked around his room, agitated. There wasn't a good way to get rid of the books at the moment. He could give them back to Luke, but Luke would want to talk to him about it. He could just dump them on the Gilmores' porch, but he'd have to wait until he knew no one would be home. Jess jerked his closet open and tossed the bag inside, which landed with a heavy _thud_ that he was sure would bring Luke running to check on him.

Luke either didn't notice or was exercising some restraint, because a full minute passed with Jess standing just behind his door, breathing heavily, ready to fight if Luke so much as knocked. Jess let out a harsh sigh, deflating and walking over to his bed. He sat down, cradling his forehead in his palms and squinting against the pain in his head. He briefly thought about his room back in New York, which he had packed into boxes and left there with Liz's promise that she would mail them to him soon. Even by Liz's loose definition, months later was not _soon_. He wondered if it was still all the way he'd left it or if Liz had bothered to touch his things at all. He didn't live there and he didn't live here. He was nowhere.

He lay back on his mattress, craning his neck to look out the window over his head. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, wishing for nothing more than sleep. He was relaxed, limbs heavy, when there was a soft knocking on his door.

Jess' breathing hitched. He turned his head to watch the door and his jaw locked up again when he realized that he hadn't bothered to lock it behind him. He rolled onto his side, face to the wall, pulling his arms close to his chest.

Luke called his name quietly from the hallway and Jess made no reply. He could hear a gentle creaking that indicated Luke shifting just outside of his bedroom. The knob turned and the door opened, letting in a small draft. Luke took a couple of steps into the room and paused. Jess just focused on breathing.

"Goodnight," Luke murmured, and the door slid shut again.

to be continued


	8. Chapter 8

**notes: **As ever, thank you so much to the people who have been so encouraging; to Prisc, forever; to Cadence, for the beta, and for threatening to murder me if I didn't keep writing.

* * *

**(eight)**

Several things about the new apartment required unexpected flexibility from Luke. When they'd been looking, he hadn't taken much more into account than _is it somewhere that isn't the apartment above the diner_? and _does it have functional plumbing_? Once he was living in it, though, he discovered that moving hadn't solved anything. He hadn't exactly expected it to, but part of him had been hoping that it would make things easier. It didn't make anything more difficult, not really, but it was unfamiliar and strange, and he hadn't unpacked everything yet, even after a couple of weeks. He would never admit it to anyone, but when he got up before daylight some mornings and forgot where he was, he had a habit of staggering into the walls.

He hadn't struck a good balance yet living somewhere that wasn't directly above the diner. Pulling twelve-hour shifts was a simpler task when he could jog upstairs for short breaks. All that was in his old apartment now was the desk, and his dad's office was an office again. And if he spent all that time in the diner, he wasn't at his new home, where Jess was – sometimes – and talking to him and keeping an eye on him was even more difficult than it had been. He tried to at least catch a glimpse of Jess on the way to and from school, but he usually lost track of the time and would only remember when and if he noticed crowds of kids walking past the window, by which time he was usually too late.

What Luke was trying out was working shorter days at the diner, with time off either in the morning or at night, so he could cook meals for him and Jess. Not that Jess ever stayed around to eat with him, but at least they were in the same room and Luke could confirm visually that Jess was still there, still functioning. When they talked, they argued, ranging from ill-tempered bickering to all-out yelling, and Luke sometimes worried that their neighbors might complain about the noise. Chalk that up as another thing he didn't much care for about the new place.

One of the evenings Luke was home to make dinner and Jess was shut up in his room, he got an unexpected visit from Lorelai. It wasn't difficult to figure out who was there, since she was calling "Hellooo!" loudly from the other side of the door while she knocked.

"Come in," he called, keeping his focus on the stove.

"Helloooo," she called again as she opened the door, sounding a little breathless. Luke wondered wryly if climbing the one flight of stairs up to the apartment had been a bit much for her.

There wasn't a clear line of vision between the front door and the kitchen, so he turned around and craned his neck a little until she walked into his view. He raised one hand in greeting. "Hi."

She pulled the smallest look of confusion. "Oh, dinner time. Am I interrupting?"

"I don't think so," he said. "I guess that depends on what you're here for."

She scoffed, holding her empty hands in the air and staring at him, waiting for him to come to some realization. When he didn't, she said, "I'm supposed to alter your curtains! We talked about it, remember? I was like 'Oh, Luke, are your curtains going up in the new place?' and you were like 'I dunno, I think the windows are different.'"

His lip pulled up a little at the deep, dumb voice she put on to imitate him. "Was that the whole conversation?"

"Then _I_ said that I could take measurements and see if I could alter the curtains to fit." She raised her eyebrows at him, as though still expecting him to remember.

"And I said?"

"I don't know, I think something about pancakes. Didn't make a lot of sense in the context of the conversation, frankly, Luke, but you're well known for pretending to not care about what I'm saying. It's something that I've gotten used to, especially since I've learned how to interpret Luke Speak."

Luke smiled faintly, trying to play along. "Right. So, when I changed the topic, in your mind…"

"I figured it meant you absolutely wanted and were appreciative of my help, thank you Lorelai, please _do_ come over and work on my curtains whenever you feel like it."

He considered for a moment and then shrugged. "Fine."

"Great!" She reached in her purse and pulled out a small cloth bag. "Sewing kit," she explained unprompted, tapping her fingers on it. "Where are the curtains?"

Luke stepped away from the stove to look at the bare windows and then at the boxes lined and stacked against the wall of the living room. "In one of those, I think," he said, with an all-encompassing wave of the hand. "They might still be at the old place, though. I can't remember."

"Well," she sighed, sounding a little put out, "I don't want to go through those."

"Neither do I. Guess you'll just have to do it later."

She looked honestly disappointed, and Luke fumbled for something to talk about. He glanced around the room and caught sight of a slip of paper he'd had on the counter for the last couple of days. He kept forgetting to take it with him to the diner. "Oh, Lorelai, I have something for you."

Her expression changed quickly into hopeful anticipation. "Oh, but it isn't my birthday, and I've lived in my house for _years_. What's the occasion?"

"It's just, uh, it's not even anything." He handed her the note, which she took with a curious expression. She scanned the number on it and looked up at him, eyes narrowed in confusion.

"For… a good time?"

"It's my new number. My cell phone."

A slow smile worked across Lorelai's face, and if Luke hadn't been so embarrassed, he would have smiled back at her. "You got a cell phone." Her tone was lightly teasing.

"It's for emergencies only, really."

She mock-gasped. "And _I_ get the number? I'm honored." He waved his hand dismissively and she laughed. "That's great, Luke. And Jess has one too?"

"Yeah." Luke rolled his eyes. That, like everything else, was an ongoing struggle.

"He answers it?"

Just then, Jess walked into the living room, and Lorelai straightened, visibly startled. Luke wondered if he should have mentioned that Jess was in the apartment. That was another tricky thing with the new place – you couldn't tell who else was there on a quick first inspection.

"Oh, hey, Jess," she said, waving. He spared her a brief glance and a tilt of the chin, heading for his shoes, which lay by the door. Lorelai swiveled her attention to Luke and then back to Jess. "You, um. Your face looks good."

He looked up at that, brow furrowed, but not distracted from the task of getting ready to leave. "What?"

"It's just," Lorelai stammered, running a finger down her cheek where Jess' bruises had been clearly visible even the week before, "you know, it looks a lot… better." Jess nodded, still staring at her. Lorelai took in a short breath and continued, "Also it looks fine. Good. It's… symmetrical."

Jess shot Luke a _what-is-with-this-woman? _look before turning his attention back to Lorelai. "No it isn't," he muttered, canting his mouth to the side as though to prove how wrong she was.

"Sure it is," she replied. "It's just at an angle."

Jess rolled his eyes but made no other acknowledgment as he reached for the door.

"Jess," Luke called, but Jess seemed determined to ignore him. "_Jess._" He paused, hand on the doorknob, and shot Luke an irritated look.

"What?"

Luke sighed. "Where are you going?" Jess shrugged. "How long are you going to be out?" He shrugged again, exaggerating the movement. Luke rubbed the back of his neck. "I made dinner."

Jess' eyes flicked to Lorelai. "Feed Lorelai. She's always eating." He was mostly out the door when Luke called after him again.

"_Jess_!"

Luke saw Jess' fingers curl around the door to stop it from closing. There was a long pause before he pushed it open and leaned just his head back into the apartment, expression dark. "_What?_"

"Do you have your cell phone with you?"

Jess didn't reply, didn't break eye contact, but he held up a phone, dangling between his thumb and forefinger, and he shook it. Silently, he dropped his arm and then his gaze, pulling his head behind the door again.

"Jess, wait, is it _charged_ and _on_?" But the door slammed closed behind him and Luke listened to Jess' footsteps taking him down the stairs. He sighed and looked over at Lorelai, who was watching him apprehensively.

"So," she said after an awkward moment of silence. "That whole talking to him thing is going well."

Luke bowed his head. "Yep," he replied, unexpectedly defensive, walking back into the kitchen to tend to dinner.

He _was_ making progress with Jess – he knew it, he felt it, even if the evidence wasn't really noticeable – and Lorelai's flippancy about it felt like an insult. It was just Lorelai, of course, being her. She made jokes about everything. But Luke was still irritated. He banged his spoon against the side of the pot much harder than he intended, and immediately felt embarrassed by his show of annoyance.

"Well, thanks," Lorelai sounded uncomfortable, and Luke guessed she'd picked up on his change in mood. "And thanks for the phone number, that's, um. Great. I better be on speed dial. And have a special ringtone for me. If you can make it play Under Pressure or – well, no, that might actually be a bit foreboding. Anyway, you should make sure you do something fancy and figure out how to, um, work it. I better go."

"Did you want to stay?" He didn't look up from the stove, so he listened to the pause in Lorelai's footsteps. "For dinner." When he looked up, she was almost entirely obscured by the wall, but she was watching him, brow furrowed.

"There's extra now, and Jess does have a point. You _are_ always eating."

Lorelai smiled self-consciously but didn't make any move either to leave or come back into the kitchen. "What'll Jess eat?"

"I always make extra so he can have leftovers on the nights I'm not here for dinner. I'm assuming you won't eat _that_ much." She snorted. "Some of this is vegetables."

"Oh, yes. That should be fine, then." She was already shedding her jacket and looking for a place to put it.

"Just throw it on the couch," he called. "I haven't put up coat hooks yet."

Lorelai folded her jacket neatly over the back of the couch and made a quick, small circle around the living room. "I should buy you a coat rack."

"No," Luke said immediately, his mind filling with images of grotesque, crudely-hewn monkeys or bears or whatever animal Lorelai thought was the most hilarious that day.

"It would be tasteful!" she protested, sounding like she was about to laugh. Luke marveled at how quickly Lorelai could go from serious to joking. It probably had to do with the offer of food.

"I'm sure," Luke muttered.

"You do need more decoration in here, though. It's pretty…" she waved her hand in the air, fumbling for the least insulting word. "Spartan."

"I just don't have everything unpacked yet." Again, he indicated the boxes lining the wall.

"So you have coat racks in there?"

"I have _hooks_, Lorelai, that I will put up, yes. In my own good time." She raised an eyebrow at him, almost smirking. "I swear, if you buy me any trinkets, I won't feel bad about returning them."

"Ha! What if I give them to you without a gift receipt and I never tell you where they're from?"

He sighed, grabbing a plate and filling it with food. "Then I won't feel bad about throwing them away." No, that wasn't true. He'd feel really bad about throwing away a gift, no matter how intentionally crappy it was. "Or putting them in Jess' room." Although that wasn't completely funny, since Luke still hadn't bought Jess an actual bed yet. Or called Liz to get the rest of his belongings. He really had to get on that.

Lorelai made a noncommittal noise and walked into the kitchen, stopping just behind Luke's elbow to watch him serve dinner.

"Is that for you?" she asked.

"No."

He could feel her looking pointedly between him and the plate, but he refused to acknowledge it. "That's broccoli you're serving up."

"I know." He put on another heaping spoonful and handed it to her, feeling almost guilty for joking around, and he had to remind himself that it was OK.

Lorelai pouted, but walked her dinner over to the table. "You're kind of a mean host." She started pulling open drawers, searching for silverware.

"And you're an ungrateful, unhealthy guest." He pointed to the drawer next to her. "In there."

The awkwardness of the situation didn't dawn on him until they were both sitting, eating, and unable to make conversation. Luke couldn't focus his thoughts enough to string a sentence together, and every time she said something, it took all his concentration to reply. He kept getting tripped up on the feeling that this was a weirdly intimate thing to do, eating dinner with Lorelai in his apartment. It hadn't been strange when he'd asked her, but now it was all he could think about. He wondered if he should apologize or if that would just make things weirder.

Lorelai, for her part, didn't appear fazed by the situation. She was eating as eagerly as she always did, though carefully picking through the vegetables, and didn't seem to be bothered by his confusion, or even to have noticed it. After he'd been sitting quietly for a few minutes, not eating and mostly just watching her, feeling strange, she looked over at him. "So, have you talked to the lawyers lately?"

That snapped him back into awareness, and while it certainly distracted him from his own social ineptitude, it reminded him of all the other things in his life that weren't going well.

He shrugged, anxiety warming the back of his throat. "Last week."

Actually, he'd called the day before. The receptionist had been polite but absolute in his insistence that there was no need for him to keep calling. _They_ would contact _him_ as soon as they had something to report.

"Any news?"

He kept his focus down and his voice as neutral as possible. "Nope. It's only been a couple of weeks, and right now, uh, the states of New York and Connecticut are fighting over who gets to prosecute him. He violated parole and committed a couple of other petty crimes on the way over here, and there won't be any progress until they get that straightened out at the jurisdiction hearing. Which is what they're doing now."

Inwardly, he grimaced. He was using, practically verbatim, the language the lawyer had used with him. At the time, it had felt like they were condescending to him. He didn't mean to sound dismissive, but it was easier just to repeat the lines to Lorelai than get into how he actually felt about it.

"They say it shouldn't be any problem once they do figure it out, though. There's evidence, Jess' statement, my statement, hospital records…. There's no reason to think he won't be convicted. Justice just… moves slowly."

Lorelai snorted softly. "Justice," she murmured, fiddling with her fork and using it to move the food around her plate.

Luke knew what she meant – even though he was invested in the case, even though he was calling too often and driving everyone crazy as though Ted's conviction would bring him any peace, he knew that even the harshest penalty a court could hand down wouldn't make anything any better. He didn't even know what the maximum sentence was for what Ted had done, but Luke felt pretty sure it wasn't life imprisonment. He felt a sudden swell of anger, and he wanted to tell Lorelai just what a huge pile of shit the justice system was, but once it reached his throat, it was gone again, and he was left feeling tired, his heart beating hard.

His head hurt a little, and he was annoyed with himself that he couldn't help being aggravated with Lorelai for bringing it up. He never knew how he was going to feel about it. Sometimes he was desperate to see her just so he could remember that there was someone else who knew what he was going through and, to some degree, was feeling the same things about it that he was. But actually _talking_ about it, even actively thinking about it, wore him down. It was amazing how quickly it could happen.

He cleared his throat and shifted. "Anyway, who gives a shit," he muttered, his voice too raw to be as indifferent as he had intended to be.

Lorelai looked up and he glanced at her before returning his focus to his plate. He almost hoped she wouldn't ask him about anything else, that maybe they could just eat the rest of their meal in silence. He wasn't sure he could handle it if she seriously brought up how things were going with Jess. The truth, when Luke allowed himself to admit it, was that he wasn't getting anywhere. He was beginning to realize that he didn't even know what he _meant_ when he said he was going to help Jess. Luke's stomach turned, and he suddenly didn't want to look at his food anymore.

"So, Sookie and Jackson are engaged," Lorelai said, cutting into his thoughts.

Luke looked at her, momentarily thrown off-balance. Lorelai was good at non-sequiturs, but wow. "Oh?" he asked, blinking quickly, trying to regain his bearings.

"It's not actually _new_ news – it happened a couple of weeks ago, but I thought you might not have heard." He nodded, still a little bewildered. But Lorelai didn't wait for a response, or even seem to expect it. "The story's actually kind of funny." He nodded again, more enthusiastically, finally realizing that Lorelai was giving him an out.

Lorelai kept talking, mostly updates about the minutiae of Stars Hollow life, interspersed with anecdotes from her day at the inn. Luke nodded and pretended to listen, making occasional noises of interest when it seemed the appropriate thing to do. He ate mechanically, wondering when his cooking had gotten to be so bad. Everything was bland and mushy. It was surprising that people were still coming to the diner at all if this was the quality of food he was giving people.

Luke looked up when he noticed Lorelai wasn't speaking, and, embarrassed, he wondered how long ago she'd stopped. She didn't look offended and simply grabbed her water glass and held it up in the air. With great solemnity, she tipped her drink to him in a toast. "Fuck Ted."

He grabbed his own glass and brought it to hers. "Fuck Ted," he agreed, and they toasted.

Lorelai gave him a helpless shrug of her shoulders. "Everything will be OK, Luke."

---

"You need to come to the school to pick up Jess." That was what the Stars Hollow High operator had said, bland and matter-of-fact, after the most cursory of introductions. "He's been in a fight." He hadn't given Luke any more information than that. After stuttering out a reply that he would be there as soon as he could, Luke stood with the phone pressed to his ear, listening to the quiet static of the dead connection.

He took long moments gathering his wits, uncertain of himself and why he wasn't panicking. This was bad, right? In the grand scheme of things being awful, it maybe didn't rank as high as it would have a month ago, but still. His pulse was quick and heavy, but he felt weirdly calm. Maybe he was getting used to hearing bad news. Maybe he was learning to roll with the punches. He felt a little hopeful at that. God, life would be so much easier if everything that went wrong didn't hit him like a fatal blow.

He shifted mental gears, trying to figure out the possible consequences of Jess fighting at school, when the phone's angry beeping cut off his thoughts. He hadn't hung up, had been standing there stupidly with it pressed to his ear. He shook himself and put the phone in its cradle, running a hand over his face. Turning, he scanned the diner, suddenly self-conscious that people were probably watching him, listening in to the conversation. But it was quiet, and the few people who were still straggling from the lunch rush were absorbed with their own activities.

Luke apologized to Ceasar as much as he would allow, insisting that it wasn't that big of a deal to extend his shift, and Luke felt guilty. He wasn't paying Ceasar enough to have him work like this. It was even more difficult now that he didn't have Jess to pick up the slack at busy times. Even though he didn't like the implication that he couldn't handle things on his own – or that he was somehow replacing Jess – he was just going to have to hire additional help.

He took a steadying breath before walking to the school, and not just because he was nervous. It The school was full of unpleasant memories, although there were none in particular that stuck out to Luke as worse than the others. It was all an indistinguishable, four-year blur of not liking school. Just walking down the halls again, he felt out of place and diminished.

He remembered the way to the principal's office well enough. Luke hadn't been a troublemaker in the traditional sense – he hadn't been much of anything when he was in school, except for a little better than average at track – but he had gotten into his fair share of fights, especially around the time his mother died. He had been awkward and his temper prone to unexpected flare-ups, made worse when Liz was in school with him and he was on the alert to defend her. Distantly, he admitted to himself that he was a little impressed that he hadn't been called to the principal's office before now. He'd been expecting something like this from Jess for a long time – way back since he shoved him into the lake, ever since he realized just how far in over his head he was.

Theprincipal's assistant greeted him politely, and Luke was filled with a petty urge to tell him, "You know, you could have been a little more helpful on the phone," but instead thanked him for pointing him toward the office, which he hardly needed direction to navigate to. It was down a short hall that doubled as a waiting room – a few chairs lined the wall opposite the office. Jess sat in the middle chair, his hands folded over his stomach, eyes closed.

Luke held his breath as he approached, bracing himself mentally for catastrophe, even though he knew Jess wasn't badly hurt. They would have told him so on the phone if that were the case. It was still a relief when he got close enough to see for himself that the kid was all right – better, even, than Luke expected. Jess looked oddly at ease, his posture sloppy and his head propped up against the wall. He had tissue stuffed in one nostril, and there were little patches of dried blood around his upper lip. A small bruise was forming under his eye and his bottom lip was swollen, giving him an even more pronounced look of asymmetry.

He sat in the chair next to Jess with a heavy exhalation, saying nothing. Jess sighed and slumped lower into his seat, his knees jutting out. To all appearances, he was a lot calmer than Luke. And calmer than Luke had ever been in this position as a kid. Luke wondered briefly where the other student involved in the fight was.

Luke rubbed his palms against his thighs nervously. He really hated waiting rooms. "How do you feel?"

Jess tilted his head toward Luke, but didn't open his eyes. "Better," he murmured. Luke did a small double-take at that, looking closer. The odd thing was, he almost looked better. Apart from the pallor and bruises and the swollen lip, of course. He seemed relaxed, his fingers clasped loosely at his stomach and his legs splayed lazily. He looked like he might fall asleep at any moment. Luke realized now by contrast how angry, how tightly coiled Jess had been, and he felt a guilty ache in his chest without knowing exactly why.

Luke crossed his arms and looked down at the tiles between his feet. _Everything will be OK_, he thought to himself, and was too tired to feel much besides bemused. _That's a pretty good joke_. As he rolled his head back to rest against the wall, he considered the situation. Nobody was dead. There weren't any police around. _Things could be worse. Maybe that'll be my new mantra_.

The principal emerged from his office, breaking off Luke's train of thought, and he stood too quickly, nearly stumbling in the process. He didn't know what to do in this situation, if he should shake the man's hand or what. "Hello," he said, with an odd little wave.

"Mr. Danes?" the principal replied, and Luke nodded. "I'm Principal Merton. Please come in." He gestured to the door, and Luke cast a brief look at Jess, who saluted them lazily. Luke walked into the office, feeling another tug of dread, and stopped when he was a few feet inside.

Principal Merton closed the door behind himself and tugged his jacket sharply into order. "Please take a seat." He rounded his desk and sat in a chair that, Luke noted, was a lot cushier than the one available to him.

"So, a fight," Luke said ruefully, taking a couple more steps into the room. "Is Jess…?" He didn't know how to finish the question. Obviously there would be some sort of punishment, but Luke didn't want to supply words like "suspended" or "expelled" if the principal didn't bring them up first.

Principal Merton pulled a file in front of him and looked up at Luke.

"Take a seat," he repeated, indicating the chair across from him. Luke sat, anxiety gnawing cheerfully at the pit of his stomach.

Principal Merton sighed, flipping open the file, and briefly rested his face on two of his fingers. For a moment, Luke thought he almost looked worried – definitely tired – but then it was gone, and the principal's features schooled back into a detached, though still solemn, expression.

Luke wasn't sure how long he was supposed to sit quietly waiting for the principal to speak. "Was it Dean?" he asked suddenly.

Principal Merton looked genuinely lost. "Dean?"

That reaction was probably a good indication that Dean hadn't been involved, but Luke clarified anyway. "Oh, he's -- tall -- and he has -- brown hair." Luke flapped his fingers at his head to pantomime Dean's long, floppy hair. Principal Merton raised an eyebrow.

"I can't say I know who you're talking about, but that wasn't the student Jess fought."

"Are you sure? That wasn't a very good description." It would probably make things easier if Luke could remember Dean's last name.

He let out a hard, quick sigh that sounded suspiciously close to a laugh. "The other student was named Gabriel."

"Ah."

Principal Merton nodded. "Neither Gabriel nor Jess are seriously injured, and neither student will say anything about how the fight began – which, frankly, is beside the point, and not why you're here. I have to say that this incident is just another in a line of troubling behavior your nephew has been exhibiting in the last few weeks, and we need to come up with a solution."

Luke swallowed hard, bracing himself to fight the bad news he was prepared to hear. "Troubling behavior?" he repeated. "Has he set something on fire? Is anyone … else … seriously injured?"

Principal Merton frowned. "No, not at all. That's not the kind of troubling I'm talking about."

"So there haven't been any kind of – " Luke floundered, trying to come up with something plausible Jess might have done wrong. When he thought about it, though, he wasn't able to conjure anything more than a vague impression of "bad behavior" that he associated with Jess. "Felonies?" he offered finally, dubiously.

"No," the principal replied slowly. "I'm talking about – not exactly acting out, but more behavior indicative of – of something being _wrong_. Some of the teachers in this school have had training in the past that makes them more alert to warning signs, things like – " Principal Merton cut himself off, looking flustered. Luke really didn't like the way this conversation was going, and, as much as he'd told himself he could handle it, no big deal in the scheme of things, he simply wasn't prepared. He had no idea what he was going to do if the principal tried to tell him that Jess was expelled. Principal Merton gave his head a little shake and continued, "Jess has missed enough school that he can be qualified, legally, as a Youth In Crisis."

Luke almost laughed out loud at that. That was ridiculous. It sounded stupid, and – what, there was an actual legal definition for what Jess was? He couldn't quite hold in his incredulity, and a tiny scoff escaped him. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It's a term for youth of Jess' age who act out in noncriminal ways, such as running away from home, being out of their parents' control, or being excessively truant." He caught Luke's eye for the last part, and Luke couldn't help feeling like he was being reprimanded in some way.

He frowned, still not understanding where the principal was going with this, but not liking it. "But his recent absences – I know it was a lot of school at one time, but that was excused. I called that in. He was in the hospital. He had a concussion." Luke was speaking louder than he meant to, slowly and deliberately, but Luke thought it was possible the man was a little bit stupid. It was downright antagonism to punish a kid for being out of school with a head injury. "That's no fair, you can't count those."

"Mr. Danes, I'm not counting those. If I were, Jess would have already failed this year. As it stands, even with the excused absences, I don't think he's going to be able to continue to his senior year without some summer school. Jess has been cutting classes regularly since he transferred here." The principal tapped his fingers on Jess' file and regarded Luke gravely, just over the top of his glasses. Luke hated it when people with glasses did that. "And since he's come back to school, his rate of truancy has skyrocketed."

Luke swallowed and dropped Principal Merton's gaze, but said nothing. How stupid was he that he hadn't even considered that Jess might be skipping school? And when the hell was anyone going to contact him about it?

"When he is here, his attitude is markedly worse than it was prior to the recent – very unfortunate – incident at your diner."

That gave Luke pause. He didn't like to think that other people had noticed anything different about Jess. Even with Principal Merton's assertion of "troubling behavior," Luke could excuse that in his head as Jess' regular bad attitude and disrespect for … everyone. But the mention of the night of the attack felt pointed, and his anxiety quickly slid into a just-controlled panic. He wanted to deny the implication that there was something wrong that Luke couldn't deal with, because this wasn't anyone's concern but his and Jess', and could they please go home now, and, by the way, mind your own damn business, Principal Merton. His mouth was dry, though, and he couldn't speak.

"Jess needs help."

About fifty responses to that ran through Luke's head, all of them brief and none of them polite. He finally settled on a controlled, "I know."

"If Jess is declared a Youth In Crisis, then the court can order –"

"Wait, court?" Luke cut in, panicked. This was unreal. How did everything keep getting _worse_? And why was it all things that Luke hadn't seen coming, didn't even know how to defend against? "What are you talking about?"

"Mr. Danes, please! Take your seat."

Luke hadn't even realized he'd stood, and he glanced down at his empty chair with some embarrassment. "But you have to understand," he said, desperately trying to maintain his calm, "that court – jail –" Luke had to pause to take a breath. "That isn't an option."

Principal Merton held his eyes steadily. "Sit down."

Luke really wanted to argue, fighting just to fight, to prove that he wouldn't simply accept punishment handed down from on high without questioning it. The insistence that he would really rather stay standing, _thank you_, hung at his mouth, and he had to chew his lip to keep from saying something that would probably just make things worse. Luke didn't break eye contact as he retook his seat.

"I know that sending Jess to jail isn't an option." Principal Merton's tone made Luke feel stupid again. "I'd never suggest it, and especially not as a way to help anyone, Mr. Danes. Nevermind that nothing Jess has done would ever put him in danger of being incarcerated." He paused and raised his eyebrows, waiting for an indication that Luke was going to stay calm. Luke nodded sullenly. "As I was saying, if Jess is declared a Youth In Crisis, a court can order him into therapy. I'm not necessarily asking for your permission to do this, but do you think it's something that your nephew would benefit from?"

Luke opened his mouth to speak, even though he had no idea what he wanted to say. He blinked a few times and furrowed his brow. His mind seemed to have finally stopped pinging around, and was now struggling to comprehend how exactly the principal seemed to have said something that might be good. He also had no idea why, when suggested by someone else, the idea of forcing Jess into therapy was a little insulting.

"Therapy?" he said at last. "Um, why? Is that usually what they do for students who get into fights?"

Which, when Luke thought about it, was probably a lot more likely than sending those students to _jail_. The look Principal Merton gave Luke indicated that his thoughts were running along the same lines. Luke shifted awkwardly.

Principal Merton sighed and looked away, his fingers brushing absently over the top page on Jess' file. "Mr. Danes, did you know that Mr. Douglas, the student counselor here, works part-time as a stenographer for the district judge?"

Luke leaned forward a little in his chair, not following the principal's line of thought at all, but he was cold and sweaty at once. "No."

"It turns out that he was working on a recent jurisdiction hearing that seems to have some – relevance to what happened the night your diner was broken into." Luke stared. He was sure he was just confused, because there was no way Principal Merton was telling him what he thought he was hearing. "The case involved indicates some things about Jess –" he cut himself off and shook his head, letting out a heavy breath. "I think that your nephew needs to be in therapy."

He didn't answer for a long time. If the principal were actually talking about the jurisdiction case Luke was almost certain he meant – _Ted's_ jurisdiction case, which he had just been talking to Lorelai about – then that was – that was crazy. Then, at the very least, the principal knew what Ted had done here in Stars Hollow. And he would know that Ted used to live in New York, and probably that he used to be Jess' stepfather.

There was an angry voice going through Luke's head that sounded a lot like Jess', a defensive insistence that this wasn't anyone else's concern, and how _dare_ any counselor or principal know these things about them without them giving consent? For the first time, he felt like he might understand the way Jess felt about getting outside help. It was an incredible violation of their privacy, and the principal hardly even looked remorseful.

The glare he was giving Principal Merton must have been effective, because the other man shifted uncomfortably and steepled his fingers together. "We are beginning to see how Mr. Douglas' second job might be a conflict of interest."

Luke crossed his arms. "I'm guessing it wouldn't be such a problem if he wasn't a huge blabbermouth."

"We plan on dealing with that. Mr. Douglas will be – "

"Fired?"

"Handled, certainly, in a manner fitting the circumstances."

"This is completely unprofessional. That information _never_ should have gotten out. If I find out that anyone _else_ knows, I'll – " Luke stopped and huffed angrily. He didn't know what he'd do, or what he could do, legally. Maybe he could put in a call to the lawyer and let them know that the district court had a stupid loudmouth stenographer with no ethics. "How did you even allow that guy to work here?"

Principal Merton rocked his chair forward, looking rankled.

"We only employ Mr. Douglas a couple of days a week. Stars Hollow High doesn't have a demand for a counselor more often than that, and we aren't in the habit of keeping people from getting secondary employment if they need it."

His tone had an edge of sharpness Luke wasn't expecting, and he basked in a moment of self-satisfaction for effectively scolding the principal. "This is the first time anything like this has happened. I grant that we were completely unprepared for a situation like this, which _is_ our fault, yes. But no one has acted with malice, and I encourage you to focus on your nephew and the situation _he_ is in. And please trust me when I say that we are going to deal with Mr. Douglas as well as take the precautions necessary to ensure that an accident –" he paused to give Luke a significant look "– like this will not happen again."

Luke half wanted to keep up the fight – he didn't know what he thought he could gain out of it, maybe an apology, some act of contrition – but he couldn't ignore the opportunity the principal was offering. "Can he pick the therapist?" Luke asked.

Principal Merton shifted, regarding him closely. "How do you mean?"

"Back at the hospital," Luke replied, done with any pretense that either of them didn't know what the other was talking about. "The nurse gave me a list of people in the area we could contact. Do you think it'd be possible for Jess to pick which one he wanted to go to?"

That pamphlet had gone missing sometime while they were staying at the inn, which had briefly terrified Luke and left him without direction – until he figured out he could just go back to the hospital and get another. It had been one of the most awkward, embarrassing moments of his life, but the list of names and numbers was stored safely at home, and, if there were any mercy in the world, he would never have to go through that again.

Principal Merton tilted his head, propping his chin with a couple of fingers. "In all honesty, I'm not sure. It would probably depend on the court and what expenses they're willing to cover."

"What if I pay for the difference?" Luke hit himself mentally the moment he offered it. He had absolutely no idea how much that would cost, and he certainly didn't have any _extra_ money of late.

"Again, that's not something I could give you a definite answer on. But I'll get back to you about it as soon as I can."

Luke nodded. "Thanks," he said, sounding dry and tired but genuinely meaning it. "So is Jess suspended?"

Principal Merton spread his hands in the air. "Generally, I'd have to say yes. Physical aggression against other students is absolutely not something we'd let go unpunished, but I can't in any way believe that keeping Jess out of more classes is going to either deter future outbursts or help the situation. The circumstances here are… exceptional." He gave Luke a wry look and sighed. "Today's Thursday, so let's just say he comes back Monday, but he receives detention for any homework from today and tomorrow he doesn't make up."

"So what would have happened to Jess if you hadn't _accidentally_ found out about Ted?"

Principal Merton flinched a little at the use of Ted's name, the first time either one of them had directly referenced information from the attack. Luke almost had a physical reaction to it, too, but kept himself in check. The principal's mouth pressed into a thin line, and Luke couldn't tell if he was upset with Luke or the counselor or just the situation. He started to reply, but Luke cut him off with a wave of his hand. "You know what, I don't want to know."

He sat back, rubbing his hand roughly over his chin. As much as he would have liked to lay into the principal a little more, he was too tired to muster the energy to continue the argument.

"Can I take him home?" he asked.

Principal Merton's expression changed then, all the authority falling away from his features, and he looked at Luke with something close to kindness before saying, "Yes. We'll discuss this more later. Thank you for coming in."

"Yeah," Luke muttered, standing with an aching heaviness.

They didn't speak in the car. Jess continued looking casual and unconcerned, occasionally ruining the mask of indifference by snuffling and dabbing at his nose.

When they got back to the apartment, Jess shuffled in ahead of Luke, to all appearances completely unfazed by the day's events. He didn't take off his jacket as he sat on the arm of the couch, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" Luke suggested, and Jess lifted his head to meet his gaze, expression questioning. "You look like shit right now. We'll talk when you get up."

Jess watched him for a moment before shrugging and standing. He left his jacket on and walked to his room with dragging footsteps. Luke sighed and walked around couch, propping himself on the back of it. He crossed his arms tightly to his chest and listened to Jess' door open and close. It would be good, he thought. Jess needed rest, and so did he. Just a moment of reprieve between battles, time to gather himself and think about what he would say, and maybe this time they wouldn't descend into shouting and stomping out of the room. He didn't really think it would happen, but there wasn't a good reason to stop hoping yet.

Luke looked around slowly at the living room, taking it all in. It was… sad. Unfurnished. He couldn't quite reconcile the idea that he should buy more things just to take up space when he'd never needed them before. Couch, television, table. Looked completely functional, even if it didn't look like anyone's home. At any rate, Luke didn't currently have the disposable income necessary to fill all the blank spaces in their home. It had been years since he'd had to pay much attention to his budget – once the diner was successful, and then out of the red, it had been a simple thing to save money. His living expenses had been minimal to the point of hardly mattering.

Luke pushed himself off the couch and walked over to the pile of boxes lined up against the wall. He should unpack them. It was getting to be ridiculous – he hadn't made any significant progress on the boxes since they'd moved in. He kept putting it off, excusing it because he was busy – he was working or arguing with Jess or sitting silently in the same room with Jess – and when he wasn't, he was exhausted. And while he hadn't entirely convinced himself that he needed to unpack, he knew that he had to get the rest of Jess' stuff from Liz.

He dreaded making that phone call. He felt a little sick every time he thought about it, and he wasn't sure he trusted himself not to scream at her if she answered. It wasn't a good reason to delay, he knew, because Jess lived in Stars Hollow now, and the apartment should feel like his home. It was time for it. Luke looked at the phone, which was sitting inelegantly on top of a pile of boxes, and considered.

Liz might not be home. Which would actually be a good thing. He could leave a message, leave her his cell phone number and their new address and never have to talk to her. Ever.

Instead, he turned and walked into the kitchen. There were some things he could clean up in there, and he wasn't entirely satisfied with the current organization he had going. He slid into an easy, mindless routine, tidying and reshelving and alphabetizing the spices. In his head, he worked on what he would say to Jess, how to give him the news about court-ordered therapy. It wasn't going to do Luke any good to get worried and upset about it before it even happened, but, for the first time, he realized that he hadn't taken Jess' reaction into consideration. There was no going back now, not that Luke would have wanted to, so he tried to focus on how he would stay calm, no matter what Jess did.

When Luke had everything tidy to his liking and felt adequately comfortable about talking to Jess, he checked the clock and was surprised to see that over an hour had passed. He hadn't heard any sound or indication of movement from Jess' room during that time. Luke doubted he was still sleeping – probably just sitting on his bed reading or something, or snuck out the window – and Luke wanted to get the discussion out of the way and get back to the diner.

He crept down the hall with useless deliberation – no matter how carefully or softly he tread, he didn't know well enough yet where to step without making noise – and stopped at Jess' door. He turned the knob and opened the door a crack, peering in. Which did no good, since all that afforded him was a view of Jess' closet. He swung the door open wider, far enough to get his head around it, and was surprised to see Jess in the middle of his bed, his face turned to Luke. He was obviously asleep, his breathing deep and steady. His mouth hung a little slack, his hair limp against his forehead, and his elbows were tucked in close to his ribs. He had only taken off his jacket, which was in a pile on the floor, and crawled under the sheets fully clothed. Luke let his hand drop to his side and he stood up straight, overcome with unexpected emotion. He took a long moment to watch Jess, unguarded and peaceful, before feeling ashamed for… intruding, he guessed. He closed the door again as gently as possible and walked an exaggerated tiptoe back to the living room.

He called to check on Ceasar, who sounded fine and even a little patronizing at Luke's concern over his ability to handle things on his own. When he hung up, he dismissed the idea of calling Liz, this time because it would be awkward if Jess woke up and came into the room while Luke was fighting with her. Later, soon.

Luke made himself a cup of tea instead of thinking about it and took it out on their apartment's tiny concrete balcony, leaving the sliding glass door open to keep an easy line of sight down the hallway to their bedrooms. Part of Luke hated the balcony for being so small and ugly, but a much larger part enjoyed the access to the outdoors. The air in Stars Hollow was truly beautiful when Luke took to the time to appreciate it, especially in spring – crisp and a little damp. He could feel it in his lungs when he breathed in.

Luke didn't know how long he sat out there on the cold concrete, but he was well done with his tea when he heard Jess' door open. Luke turned to see Jess walk out unsteadily, rubbing his face with his hands and wincing when he touched his eye. He gave himself a small, whole-body shake and continued into the living room. Luke stood in his path, trying to get his attention, and Jess stopped, not lifting his eyes above the area of Luke's torso.

"Sit down, Jess," Luke said, with a gesture toward the kitchen table, meaning to sound reassuring, but instead he felt like the principal, and he was suddenly uncomfortable with the speech he'd prepared. He didn't _want_ to lecture. He just wanted to talk to Jess and have him listen.

Jess pulled out a chair and sat down, looking in Luke's vicinity but never quite making eye contact.

"Are you OK?"

Jess made no outward sign of reaction, but Luke could feel the pause that meant Jess had been expecting something different. He blinked a few times and rolled one shoulder in a shrug, indicating, Luke assumed, that the answer didn't matter. He struggled for something else to say, hoping that he would be suddenly blessed with the ability to think up a smooth segue. Looking at Jess' swollen lip, he remembered his own school fights, and felt an echo of pain in his knuckles.

"What about your hands? Are they – OK?"

Jess still didn't look up, but he held up his hand, showing Luke the undamaged skin. Luke looked down at his fingers, clasped loosely in his lap.

"You're going into therapy." Considering the harshness of his tone, the current circumstances, and the fights they'd already had on the subject, that was maybe not the best way to break the news.

"What?" When Luke lifted his gaze, Jess was watching him with dark, flinty eyes, and Luke felt very tired.

"You're a Youth In Crisis." Luke was a little baffled at himself. That really wasn't what he'd intended to say.

"I'm a _what_?"

"Ah." Luke scrunched up his face. "That's – it's a stupid legal term for – it's not actually what I would call it, but. You've missed a lot of school, and that legally means that you're this Crisis thing, and you're getting court-ordered therapy." Luke paused to run the explanation over in his mind. He couldn't really remember much of what Principal Merton had told him – if anything – about the actual process of getting Jess declared a Youth In Crisis, or if he already was, or what other ramifications that might have. It had sounded a little dumb when Luke had first heard it, but now, coming out of his mouth, it was absolutely ridiculous.

Jess leaned back in his chair, letting his hands fall to his sides, and he regarded Luke narrowly. "What the hell are you pulling?" he asked.

"Me? Nothing! This was – this was the principal's idea. I didn't have anything to do with it." Luke held up his hands defensively, a little annoyed that he was arguing like he wasn't relieved – practically ecstatic, actually – about the situation. It was difficult to argue that point of view with Jess sitting in front of him, as furious and tense as ever.

"Right," Jess spat, standing suddenly, shoving the chair in behind him. He shook his head. "I told you I didn't want therapy. And I haven't asked you for _anything_. Why do you keep butting in? Why did you _do this_?"

"I didn't do anything! Jess, how crazy _are_ you? I'm not the one who beat the snot out of some kid at your school. That was you." He stood, too, but stayed on his side of the table.

Jess' jaw clenched. "I know what this sort of thing usually gets, and it's not court-ordered therapy. Suspension, expulsion, whatever, but court? I'm seventeen! I barely hurt him! You – " he pointed an angry finger at Luke. "Somehow, you got them to do this to force me into something I told you I wasn't gonna do."

Luke scoffed, completely off-kilter. "You think _I_ came up with 'Youth In Crisis?'" Jess just scowled. "It's not boot camp, Jess! It's not even Taylor's autumn celebration festival. It's therapy! You sit, you talk, maybe you just stare at the person and _grunt_, but you go, and you don't have any other repercussions."

"You lied to me." The way Jess was looking at him – the tone of his voice – confused him. He looked betrayed, and Luke felt like he should know what Jess was talking about, but he had no idea.

"What? When did I promise that you wouldn't have to go to therapy? I actually think I told you I wasn't gonna rest until I found someone you'd talk to. I am, in fact, being true to my word here." _That_ conversation, Luke remembered with echoing frustration, had gone only marginally better than this one.

Jess banged a palm against the table. "You promised me you wouldn't tell anyone!"

Luke's mind stumbled over that. He didn't remember making that promise – Lorelai had, but Luke hadn't. Not that he _would_ tell – and it certainly wouldn't do any good to point that out to Jess. "I didn't tell anyone, I swear!"

"Right!" Jess yelled, flinging his hands in the air, blindly outraged. "I'm sure they just sat down and said, 'Hey, you know whose life is worth spit these days? Jess Mariano's! We've never given a fuck before, but now, after he gets into a fist fight on school property, we think he's a super candidate for a second shot at life! Let's sign him up for a love-in!'"

Luke groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Jess, I swear to God. I do want you to get therapy, but this wasn't some diabolical plot. _You_ got into a fight. _You_ have been acting like a basketcase at school when you actually do show up. And _you_ have missed all this school – " Luke waved his hands in the air, next to his head " – enough that you can be legally certified as being _in crisis_."

Dimly, Luke wondered how much good it was to try to convince Jess that no one knew the truth about the attack. It was bound to come out, wasn't it? At therapy, at the very least? He didn't know how to redirect the conversation to address that point, and he was certain that telling Jess about it would only make things worse.

Jess paced an agitated line into the living room and back. "Don't they usually just _fail_ people for that?"

He understood Jess' confusion, but the repeated mentions of expulsion or failing rankled Luke. It almost sounded like that's what Jess had been _hoping_ for. At the very least, he had been expecting something along those lines.

"Is that what this is about?" Luke snapped. "Were you _trying_ to get kicked out of school, Jess? Are you just that set on making me crazy?" Jess shot him a dark, sarcastic look but gave no answer. "Well, I guess it's just your bad luck that I care too much to let that happen."

Jess laughed at that, a harsh and horrible sound that raised the hair on the back of Luke's neck. When Luke took a moment to consider it, putting it that way almost made it sound like Luke _had_ done something directly to get Jess into therapy, but he dismissed it. Too late to take it back, and there wasn't anything Luke could have said to convince Jess that it wasn't true anyway.

"You and Ted, Luke," Jess sighed, and Luke stiffened, his breath catching. Jess met his eyes, angry and unblinking. "The only people who can't get enough of me. Aren't I _lucky_?"

He flinched. Hurt and anger pooled into his stomach, and he almost wanted to laugh, it was so ridiculous. All he was doing was trying – he was trying to _help_, and he was killing himself with it – and the only thing he was ever rewarded with was things getting worse, with spiteful verbal slaps to the face. They held each other's gazes, hard and furious. Luke wanted to throw something back at Jess that would hurt him, too. To just stoop to that level, petty and thoughtless, for the one second of satisfaction it would bring.

Luke worked his jaw for a few moments, trying to keep himself from saying anything that he would regret. "I have to get back to the diner," he ground out at last. Jess' expression cleared, replaced with mild confusion. "You're staying in school, staying out of fights, and you're starting therapy. And I have to get back."

He didn't stay to see what Jess' reaction to that was. He turned on his heel and stomped out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

He went back to the diner on foot, barging into the back room and yelling to Ceasar that he was taking over in the kitchen. He spent the next few hours cooking and cleaning furiously, interrupted only when Ceasar alerted him to burning food, and again when Ceasar left for the day. Luke closed up by himself, not wanting to think about therapy or Jess or how angry he was with everything. The fucking lawyers who wouldn't move forward, who couldn't find a _way_ to move forward and didn't care about Luke or Jess or Ted beyond their job. The interfering school counselor, no matter what potential good may come out of it, definitely Luke hated _him_. The principal for being condescending. The residents of Stars Hollow who didn't know about Jess' fight or the consequences yet, but they _would_, and they would be nosy about it. Liz, for being his sister, and for giving up on Jess.

Luke thought about what his life would be like if he hadn't agreed to take in his nephew. He would be exactly the same as he had been – living above the diner, working his daily routine, concerned with nothing more than serving the same people with only minor variations, and the most exciting part of his life would be whatever Lorelai irritated him into doing that week. And Lorelai. There had been a chance with her, hadn't there? Before Jess showed up. He had thought about it a lot. Maybe they'd be together. Maybe they wouldn't, but that would be fine, because his life would be perfectly mundane. And maybe Luke wouldn't feel so empty, worn out, old.

He closed his eyes and he could picture it, clearly and vividly, and he was overcome with relief so powerful it almost took him off balance. It was quickly chased by guilt, and then he did have to sit down, fumbling around the corner of the counter to pull out a stool and dropping his weight onto it. He swallowed hard, shaken by how intensely he wanted his old life back.

He stood again, acting on impulse, and stormed over to his phone, punching the numbers furiously. He half-paced, half rocked in place while he listened to it ring.

Liz sounded distracted when she answered. "Hello?"

"Hey, Liz," Luke said, surprising himself with how casual his tone was. He heard her breath catch over the line and he could imagine her tight, guilty expression.

"Luke, I -"

He cut her off before she could get started. "I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to hear any excuses or apologies or anything. That's not why I called. I need Jess' stuff."

She paused, and Luke couldn't tell if it was from surprise or a reluctance to answer. "Oh."

Luke continued as though he didn't hear the hesitation in her voice. "He lives here now and you were supposed to mail his things ages ago. You need to send Jess his stuff."

He listened to her breathe for a moment, hoping she wouldn't try to put up any protests or ask about why he was calling so late. The last thing Luke wanted was another fight. He was so sick of arguing all the time. If it came down to it, he would just drive to New York by himself and get Jess' things on his own. Maybe he should have done that instead of calling.

"All right," she said at last. "I'll get on that."

"Yeah, soon." His voice trembled on the last word and he cleared his throat to cover it. "And we, uh, we moved. I – we – have a new address, but if you want you can just mail everything to the diner. I'll pay for the expense or whatever, but just mail it now."

Liz took in a deep breath and let it all out in a sigh that was loud enough in Luke's ear that he jerked the phone away. "OK," she said. "OK."

"OK. I'll be expecting it within the week."

She muttered another affirmative and both of them descended into silence.

"Hey, Luke."

He didn't reply, but he didn't hang up. He'd leave it up to Liz whether or not she wanted to continue the conversation. Her breathing over the connection was shaky, and he told himself he didn't feel bad for her.

"I can't even -" she started, and cut herself off. "I don't know how to say this right. I've done so much wrong and it never gets any better. I thought this was over, you know? It's been over for a long time. But it turns out that it was getting worse, just piling up in this big heap of shit heading after us and I didn't see it coming. I didn't. And I didn't handle it right, because I never do, and Luke, I _can't_ -. God." Luke's ear was getting hot under the phone, so he shifted it absently and waited for her to continue. "Is he mad at me?"

Luke was very confused, and for a moment he considered asking Liz if she was drunk. She didn't sound like it.

"Who?"

"Jess. Is he mad?"

"Why would – Liz, why would Jess be mad at you? Why – why the _hell_ would you care about _that_ right now?"

"It still matters to me! It might not _seem_ like I care, but I do! I know I don't call enough, but he doesn't call at _all_, and I don't know how angry he is, and I'm – I'm chickenshit. You know that! You've always said it – not like that, you know, you use different words, but I know what you mean! And I – I _am_. I think I sent him to you because I'm chickenshit. I was telling myself it was for his good but I think I just – I just…" Her breath gusted loudly over the line again. When she started to speak again, her voice was quiet and scared in a way Luke couldn't remember hearing before.

"I mean, when you think about it, I really did the best thing for him, sending him to you. Not that I had any idea, but, my God, Luke. Can you imagine if he'd been living _here_ when T- when – when Ted showed up? Jesus Christ, I opened up the door and he was there and I-" she broke off and gave one wet, soft sniffle. Luke felt a distant discomfort that her thoughts were echoing his, but from the perspective of what not coming to Stars Hollow would have meant for Jess.

"Nightmare. What a nightmare. I almost shat myself. I'm so sorry I didn't say anything, but I didn't think he'd find you. And you always protect us. I knew you'd take care of Jess, but I still should have said something, I know, and I understand you being mad at me, really, but I knew you'd take care of it. I'm so glad he has you, Luke, you have no idea. I haven't been able to do for him in my whole stupid life what you have in the last few months."

Luke was quiet. The silence of the diner around him buzzed loudly in his head, and he couldn't make sense of what Liz was saying. He was sure he wasn't understanding her, because it sounded like she didn't know. And that wasn't possible, because Luke had been sure all this time that she had known and was just being irresponsible, neglectful, uncaring. If he was wrong about that, then – then what, exactly?

But it wasn't actually possible that Liz _didn't know_, was it? His first instinct was to snap at her, to tell her to stop playing innocent and just own up to her failure without trying to get any sympathy, but he couldn't open his mouth. He was frantically going over the events immediately following the attack in his head. He couldn't quite remember what he'd said to her at the hospital, but he was sure now that he hadn't given details – all he told Liz on the phone was Ted's name, and she hung up on him. There was no reason to assume that she would know, just from that one word, what had happened. And Luke hadn't talked to her since then. She left him a message and that was it; that had been the last of their communication. Liz didn't know.

His jaw fell open, but he couldn't think of the proper words to a moment, he considered not telling her. It would be simpler that way – there was nothing she could do now, and the thought of having to break the news to her again made his breath catch raggedly in his throat. Guilt welled up in him, unexpected and heavy as lead, drowning out his anger.

"Liz," he said softly, cutting her off mid-sentence. He hadn't heard anything of the last two minutes of her conversation. She stuttered to a stop and paused.

"Yeah?" Her tone was dejected and wary, like a child waiting to receive a rebuke.

"I wasn't there," he said, his voice cracking.

He heard her take in a quick breath and then stop. Save the soft static of the connection, there was no sound from either end.

"What?"

"When Ted got here. I wasn't in the apartment. I wasn't home."

"I'm not sure what you mean." Her voice was high and quivering, as though she was holding back laughter.

Luke breathed in a long, deep sigh, and let it out again slowly. "Lizzie, I wasn't here. Jess was alone, and I was too late." He shifted, leaning heavily into the corner. He closed his eyes and dropped his forehead against the wall. "I was too late."

Liz didn't speak. Luke didn't either; he just let the walls hold his weight and listened to the quiet hum of the diner all around his head. When she finally spoke, the sound of her voice, though whisper-soft, gave him a start.

"Oh. Jesus." She sounded so small and hurt that Luke couldn't help feeling sympathy for her. It hit him sharp and sudden, like a stiletto blow to the chest. "How –?" she cut off into a tiny sob.

"I don't know. I came home in the middle of – it was right there, in my _room_. In my house, Liz!" His voice sounded a little hysterical in his own ears. "I was out all over town, all _night_, looking for Jess, and I come into my own bedroom, and there's _Ted_, practically on my furniture, on –" Luke broke off. When he shut his eyes, he could see it, could hear the muffled grunts and panting. He was sweating, and for a moment he thought he could smell it, the stink of hot terror.

"My God," he muttered, the words slipping out of his mouth without his intent, "how could you have married that thing?"

Liz was crying in loud, wet heaves that Luke couldn't help but feel sick to hear. It was his natural reaction, and always had been, when Liz was upset. Instead of softening to her, though, Luke was angry again. With Liz, with her lifetime of irresponsible and selfish behavior, and almost more than anything, with himself. How had this worked on him in the past? She had always been careless with her life and others' feelings, and he would be upset with her, but she would cry and he would forgive, and they would keep up the same cycle forever.

"Stop it," he snapped, and her tears hitched to a surprised halt.

"Luke!" Her voice was pleading, and it sent another shock of anger through him.

"No, Liz, stop it! You don't get to do that! Not _now_, not _weeks_ later!"

"Luke, I didn't know!"

"Why not, Liz? Why the hell did you hang up on me when I called you that morning? What did you think I was calling _for_?"

"I thought – I thought that Ted stopped by and – and –"

"And _what_? Ordered a burger? Wanted to _chat_?"

"I didn't know!" she repeated, sounding desperate.

"You should have! Whatever you thought happened, you owed it to Jess to _know_! You should have put him first for once in your life!" And she still hadn't asked how Jess was. Luke's head was so clouded with anger he could hardly see.

"Luke," she began, but he cut her off.

"Mail Jess' things. Do it as soon as possible. This is his home now." He hung up before he could throw the phone across the diner, slamming it into its cradle and leaving his hand there. He watched his fingers tremble.

He didn't want to go back to the apartment. Jess had probably left, but on the off chance he was still there, Luke didn't really want to see him. Luke would say exactly what he wasn't supposed to, because that was the only thing he was good at anymore.

He walked to the door that led upstairs, supporting himself on the counter with one hand. He sat on the bottom stair and rested his forehead in the palms of his hands. _OK. Time to regroup_.

The positives: Jess wasn't expelled. He was going to get therapy. Luke tried to force himself to feel good about that – it had been his goal for weeks now, although it felt like longer – and Luke knew now that there wasn't anything _he_ could do to help Jess. And Jess was going to get the rest of his belongings from Liz, and Luke would go out tomorrow and buy him a bed. And anything else Luke could do to make sure that Jess knew he had a home, he would do that, too, no matter how Jess felt about it.

The negatives Luke refused to even consider. There would be plenty of time for it, he was sure. If nothing else, there was always more time for that.

Luke looked around the dim and quiet diner, remembering how much he liked this time of night. He still had good things in his life. He knew it when he took the time to think about it. Jess being in Stars Hollow, that was good, and not just in a general way. Jess was _still_ in Stars Hollow. That, Luke sometimes felt, was practically miraculous. As long as Jess was still there, Luke could keep hoping. He didn't even know what for - not that everything would be OK, and not just that things wouldn't get worse - but he could keep hoping.

to be continued


	9. Chapter 9

**notes: **To everyone still reading, thank you - for sticking with this and for the wonderful feedback. There aren't thanks enough.  
**acknowledgments:** Cadence and Prisc for reading and encouraging, not to mention all the advice and support. This probably wouldn't still be a story if not for you.

* * *

**(nine)**

"Mom?"

Lorelai blinked. "Hmm?"

"You were just about to finish your story."

Lorelai gave herself a mental shake, drawing her attention back to her daughter. She should have taken the seat facing the diner entrance so she wouldn't keep getting distracted watching for a moment to talk to Luke. With him darting between the back room and the front to deliver food and Lorelai trying to pretend that she was focused on her conversation with Rory, the effort was completely wasted.

She couldn't remember what story she'd been telling.

"No, you ruined it. You ruined my punchline."

The tiniest crease of a frown formed between Rory's eyebrows. "I didn't realize there was going to be one."

"Well, there never will be now, because it's ruined." She thought about lobbing a fry at her daughter. That was playful and natural, right?

Rory considered for a second, and Lorelai could pinpoint the moment when she decided it wasn't worth pursuing. "I apologize," she said soberly. "I'll think about what I've done for the rest of the day."

"Not _all_ day. You have homework, and I don't think your teachers will appreciate the genius of fifty lines of _I must not ruin mother's stories_."

"Speaking of," Rory said, brushing off her fingers and standing, "I should get going. I also have Dean tonight."

"Dean? Aren't you guys going out over the weekend? Saturday night? The night for dating?"

Rory shouldered her backpack, pulling her ponytail out of the way with a sigh. She gave her mom a rueful look.

"He's not still mad about the bracelet."

"He's not mad," Rory agreed. "He's hurt."

Lorelai dropped her hands on the table. "Come on. That was ages ago, and you didn't lose it on purpose."

"No," Rory said, folding her arms over her chest. "It was three weeks ago that _he_ noticed it was missing, and I still haven't found it. And anyway, he hasn't brought it up for like… a week. I just don't want to disappoint him if he asks to do something."

"Rory. Honey. It's very sweet that you care so much, but you can't let guilt dictate your life like that. You can't let Dean call all the shots."

She shrugged defensively. "I'm not letting him dictate anything. He asked to hang out and I said yes. I'm _fine_." Her eyebrows drew together in a sudden fit of irritation. "And you've been really overprotective lately. You could have gone on that spa thing with grandma. She just wanted to spend time with you, and I'd be OK in the house alone."

Lorelai pursed her lips. She didn't want to have another conversation about that, ever again, with anyone. And she wasn't going to let Rory divert her from the issue that easily. She let out a slow, controlled breath.

"Just make sure you get _all_ your homework done and don't stress yourself out doing it before he comes over."

"Fine," Rory said, voice too casual, her eyes on the ground.

"And hey," Lorelai said, gently jostling Rory's elbow. "Really, don't feel bad about the bracelet. It wasn't your fault. It's not like you dropped it in a toilet and flushed. Just tell him to weld you a new one during shop class. I'm sure he'd be happy to do it. And tell him to go crazy, spend the extra fifty cents, and buy one of those little claspy things so it doesn't fall off this time."

Rory's mouth went tight and crooked the way it did when she was holding back a smile. "He didn't weld it."

"Fine. Tell him to lovingly craft you a new one. In shop class. Anyway, I still think Kirk took it. Everything would make so much more sense if it turned out that he was a magpie brain inside a human body. Your bracelet is probably buried deep inside his nest somewhere. You'll never see it again."

Rory grinned. "Bye, Mom. See you when you get home from class?"

"Yep. Bye, sweets."

Rory bent in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek and walked out. Lorelai sighed, switching her attention to Luke. As far as she could tell, he seemed all right today. He was tired, distracted and gruff, but that was practically chipper for Luke, especially of late.

The flow of new customers had ebbed, and he was fiddling with the coffee maker in a way that made her think he was just doing it to look busy and avoid unnecessary disruptions. He used to be able to run upstairs for that. Her eyes darted over to the curtain that no one ever went behind anymore and back to Luke.

_I am_ always _a necessary disruption_, she thought, brushing aside an unpleasant wave of emotion and standing from the table.

She leaned on the counter, cupping her elbows in her hands. "Hey, stranger," she said to Luke's back.

He looked at her briefly. "Oh, hey. I was just. New coffee," he said, waving at the machine with an empty brew basket.

"Bad time?"

Luke tossed the brew basket on the counter and turned to Lorelai. "No, it's fine."

"So how's everything? How's Jess' detention going? One week out of two down, right?"

"I dunno," Luke sighed. "He's supposed to be using the time to catch up with all that school work he missed and then never did, so if he continues to not do it, he gets more detention. Nobody's contacted me about that, so I assume there aren't any problems. But, then again, the school didn't tell me about Jess missing classes until they called me in to talk about the fight, so who knows what the hell kind of system they're running. And any time I ask Jess about it, well. You can guess about how well that goes."

Lorelai wrinkled her nose. "Yeah. You could call the school administration," she offered. "They'd know and they probably wouldn't be sarcastic and evasive."

Luke leaned a hand on the counter, looking out the window toward the school. "I don't like them."

"They're assholes," she agreed, watching Luke closely for a reaction. He was lost in thought, mouth set in a grim line.

"Yeah," he said, distracted. He looked between her and the school, leaning in close. "Hey, Lorelai. You're up on the gossip, right? Have you heard anything?"

Lorelai straightened, angling her body to close off their conversation from the rest of the diner. "About Jess?" Luke nodded. "Not really," she said, dropping her eyes to the counter and then meeting Luke's gaze again. "I heard about it a lot when he had that fight and when he got all the detention. People seem to think it was a direct punishment for the fight, so it balances out. Nothing about court dates or anything else."

That wasn't completely true. As far as Lorelai could tell, nobody did know about the court mandated therapy or, what was more important, and what had been most on Luke's mind, anything about Ted. She didn't think it would do any good to relay some of the things she'd heard people saying about Jess. Most seemed to have forgotten completely that he'd been attacked, and now he had surpassed his initial bad boy status to a rude little shit of a delinquent. Lorelai had been pretty surprised to hear those words come from Babette.

Luke held her eyes for a long moment, and eventually let out a small sigh, standing up straight.

"Believe me, Luke, if that stuff got out, even you would hear about it."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, rubbing his neck. "Anyway, how about you? How're things with your mom?"

Lorelai's shoulders slumped. So much for not talking about it, ever again, with anyone. It wasn't as though she would have been able to avoid it for long. The next night was Friday, and while her mother had dropped the actual fight, that didn't mean there was any lack of cold silence or snide references to spas and massages and how _incredibly busy_ Lorelai was.

"Ehn." Lorelai flicked her fingers dismissively. "We'll get through it."

He gave her a half-amused, knowing look. "Yeah, it's funny how things that used to seem like a big deal just… aren't anymore."

She smiled. "Yes, the former Chernobyl of Emily Gilmore's temper now seems more on par with leaving a fork in your take out when you put it in the microwave to reheat it. Upsetting initially because, you know, _fire_, but ultimately not that bad. You don't need to get a new microwave and even the chicken survived."

Luke's brow furrowed as he tried to parse the metaphor. "Did you do that recently?"

"Yesterday."

"Sorry to break things up," Gypsy said from behind Lorelai's shoulder. She turned her startle into a casual turn to face Gypsy, offering a wide smile. Gypsy indicated the register. "I should pay for my dinner."

Luke nodded and slid over to ring her up. Gypsy gave Lorelai a quick once-over. "Are you a bit overdressed?"

Lorelai glanced down at her work clothes, briefly reconsidering just how good of an idea it was not to at least grab a different pair of shoes to change into between work and class. It had all been part of a plan to cut down on the amount of laundry she did in a week. There seemed to be so much less time than there used to be.

"No. Luke's going upscale. All of you are underdressed."

Gypsy gave Lorelai a wry look as she handed money over to Luke. "No kidding. I'll have to pull out my dress overalls."

"On the upside, I bet you never thought you'd find an occasion to wear your dress overalls."

Gypsy didn't respond, turning her attention to Luke. "Hey, I hear you're looking for more help around here," she said as she tucked her wallet into her back pocket. "Did Jess quit? For good? I know his brain was scrambled for a while there or something, but he could take orders now, couldn't he? Pour coffee, be ready with a sarcastic comeback."

Luke's mouth was a thin line. "Oh. Yeah, I am. And he did. Quit. It doesn't have to do with the head thing, it just – " He cleared his throat. "We thought he could find a better paying job somewhere else."

Her eyebrows lifted. "Tell him I pay for crap."

Luke laughed dryly.

"So has he found a new job?"

He shook his head. "Ah, not yet. It's kind of hard right now, with all the… detention." He looked like he wanted to come up with a less incriminating excuse.

"That kid's really something," Gypsy said sarcastically. "He just seems to draw problems to him – always fighting and skipping school and now he's not working for you anymore. Even the thing with the break in. Who else would that happen to? Only Jess. Luke, you are some kind of saint for dealing with it. And let me tell you – you aren't looking too good. You have to be counting down the days until he moves out."

She shook her head and gave Luke a sympathetic look. "Good luck."

Lorelai blankly watched Gypsy walk away for a moment, and then turned to Luke. His head was bowed, his expression tight but unreadable.

"Luke," she began, trying to come up with a consolation or at least some way to laugh about it, but he waved it off.

"No big deal. I got some work to do, though," he said, not looking at her. He was already halfway to the back room. "I'll see you later."

She watched Luke disappear into the kitchen and stayed there long after she couldn't see him anymore. She thought about following him, but a string of rational, very sound arguments against it crowded her. There wasn't time between now and class, and she wasn't allowed back there and this was Luke's job, and people would see her go after him and talk, and Luke wouldn't appreciate being made the center of gossip like that and he really wouldn't appreciate being pitied just because Gypsy said something insensitive. People probably said insensitive things to Luke on a daily basis when she wasn't around, and he survived just fine without her.

It was with enormous reluctance that she turned and left the diner.

Lorelai hardly paid attention on the road and even less in class, shifting restlessly and rapping her pen unconsciously against her notepad until the girl who sat beside her touched her shoulder and looked pointedly at Lorelai's hand.

"Sorry," she whispered, and went back to trying to keep focus on the powerpoint slide on the projector screen. Instead, she thought of court dates and how feet were not meant to be in heels for twelve hours at a time and how she barely saw Jess anymore and she had no idea how people were behaving with him, or if they were bothering to interact with him at all. She chewed on her pen for the rest of the class.

She called Rory on the way home to say she was making a detour to pick up "a surprise" and would be a little late. She figured she'd come up with what the hell the surprise was later as she stepped out of the Jeep and jogged up the stairs into the diner. Only Kirk was left – his back to the door, seemingly absorbed in a game of solitaire spread out across his table, a half-drunk milkshake perched at its edge.

Ceasar was counting receipts beside the register. He did the smallest double take at Lorelai's entrance. She walked up to him briskly.

"Is he still here?"

He glanced at her, considering for a second before turning his attention back to the receipts. "He's in the back." He tilted his head to the closed door. "Go ahead. It's unlocked."

Lorelai briefly wondered just how much Ceasar knew – or at least guessed – before deciding it didn't matter. She thanked him as she slid quietly behind the door.

Luke looked up from where he was seated on a wooden crate, his half-eaten dinner on a plate at his feet. He didn't look all that surprised to see her.

"Hey."

She watched him from where she was, just inside the room. Luke seemed at ease, an open ledger on his knee and a pen in his hand, and she was suddenly unsure whether she should have come. Maybe Luke was just doing inventory and she was the only one dwelling on this.

She pulled off her heels and let them dangle from her fingers, taking a moment to enjoy the cool tile under her sore feet.

Well, even if he wasn't as upset as she was about that afternoon, she'd been wanting to find time to talk to him alone, and now they were alone. Carpe diem. Or carpe noctem, maybe, in this case.

"Hey," she said at last and padded over to him silently.

He said nothing, but he stood to grab a box and set it up beside his crate and tossed the ledger on the floor next to his abandoned dinner. She set her heels on the ground and smoothed her skirt under her legs to sit beside him. She leaned her elbows on her thighs, clasping her hands together loosely.

Lorelai let him be quiet and watched her feet as she curled and uncurled her toes.

"They don't give a shit about him," Luke said.

She felt a pang of wry amusement that she hadn't been wrong about Luke dwelling. It wasn't exactly a comfort to know she wasn't alone in that.

"That's just Gypsy," she replied. "She's direct and a little rude, but that's why we love her, right?"

Luke shook his head. "It's not just Gypsy. She means it. And it's the whole town."

Lorelai pressed her lips together, trying desperately to come up with something helpful to say. The trouble was, he wasn't wrong – and wasn't this, the two of them commiserating in Luke's store room while no one else even knew there was something to commiserate about, proof of that?

"I don't mean that the whole town hates him," Luke continued, waving a hand vaguely. "They just don't… _care_."

He took in a long breath and let it out again slowly. "I suppose it doesn't matter that much. They don't have to care. I mean, what would they do for him even if they did? Hold a … fundraiser? Carefest 2002: We loudly, publicly care about Jess Mariano. Everyone come celebrate."

Lorelai could imagine him saying the same thing with more animation and angry hand gestures, but Luke's tone was bland – not defeated, just accepting.

"Do you ever think it would help if they knew what happened?" she asked, worrying a loose thread on her skirt.

Luke snorted. "No. I mean. Yes, I have thought about it, but more in the sense of… vindication. You assholes would feel so bad if you knew." He shook his head. "It wouldn't work."

Lorelai watched him closely, studying the deep lines around his mouth and eyes.

"How is Jess?" she asked, her voice low.

Luke sighed and shrugged. "He hardly talks at all. When the petition to declare him a Youth In Crisis went through, he didn't say a word. He hasn't said anything about the mandated therapy. His mom sent boxes of his stuff, and he hasn't touched them. He doesn't argue with me anymore – he just leaves or he gives in. It's like he's…." Luke cut himself off, shaking his head.

He gave her an uncertain look. "Is it crazy that I miss the fights?"

"Not crazy," she said quickly, anxious about what she thought Luke had been about to say. "I think it's probably just a … low point. You know, he starts up the therapy – when?"

"Tuesday."

"That'll be good. He'll get help from a trained professional." She half believed it, but she felt like she was lying desperately, badly.

"Yeah," Luke said, his voice unnaturally light. "I'm sure that Jess will open up to a complete stranger and everything will be fixed."

"Don't get like that." Lorelai was a little surprised by the firmness of her voice, almost scolding. Luke looked at her askance, eyebrows raised questioningly. "You told me before that you weren't going to give up."

Luke sat back. "I'm not giving up."

"OK then," Lorelai said a little lamely, raising a fist in a halfhearted cheer. Luke let out a soft laugh.

"It feels kind of… stupid, sometimes, to think things will get better. There haven't been any indications of that so far." Lorelai's heart spiked in sympathy and – what was worse – understanding, and she opened her mouth to offer some stupid reassurance, but Luke continued quickly.

"Of course, it's only been, what, a month? Little more? And I'm sure this Dr. Bhatt he's supposed to see knows more than I do. She better, since it's her _job_," Luke said dryly. "But the advocate guy at juvenile court says they work with her a lot, mostly with kids who run away from abusive homes. So who knows, maybe Jess will be a cakewalk for her."

"Maybe." Lorelai scrunched up her face in thought. "He didn't wind up picking her, did he?"

"_No_," Luke said flatly.

Lorelai grimaced. "Because of the court or because of Jess?"

Luke gave her a sideways look, eyebrows raised, that told her she should know the answer to that. "I have no idea what the court's take on that would have been," he said.

Lorelai looked away, scratching her cheek. "So did you ever find out anything about the fight? What started it, or…" she trailed off uncomfortably, not sure if she was pressing.

Luke scoffed. "The last time I asked him about it, he told me it was over a girl. I'm pretty sure I'm never going to get a straight answer to that."

Lorelai clamped her mouth shut, a wave of unease coming over her.

"Over a girl?" she asked slowly. "Or… because of a girl? The girl was involved? Did he specify?"

Luke looked at her like she was crazy. "No. And I don't know, the principal told me he didn't know what started the fight. I think the only other person involved was that Gabriel kid. Why would Jess be fighting over a girl? It's ridiculous." He shook his head, dismissing the thought. "He was just being Jess, trying to get me to leave it alone."

Lorelai worked her jaw thoughtfully. It probably was just that, but it made her worry. Right after the fight, she'd heard some nastier strains of rumor about Jess harassing a girl, but she'd just chalked that up to unsubstantiated gossip from people willing to believe the worst about Jess. It was a bit too much of a coincidence to hear a similar explanation from Jess to sit well with her.

It was possible, maybe, that Jess had heard the same gossip, and that was why he'd said it. But if that were the case, why would he _want_ anyone to believe it? That wasn't reassuring.

"Why, do you think it's true?"

"Hmm?" Lorelai snapped her attention to Luke, lips pressed together tightly.

Luke's expression was somewhere between disgust and incredulity. "You think it's possible Jess like… got in a rumble with some kid over a girl?"

She snorted out a laugh at the mental image. "No, Luke. I don't think Jess lives in a 50s musical."

It wouldn't help to tell Luke what she was thinking. She gave him a tight smile. "You're right, it's nothing," she said. "I'm just tired and I was in class for hours and I'm overthinking everything."

He kept watching her, skeptical but wary, and she focused on keeping her expression neutral. Eventually, he turned his head to look straight ahead and sighed. "Jess doesn't strike me as the most romantic kid on the best of days," he said, curling his lip on the word _romantic_.

"Not that fistfights are romantic," he added as an afterthought.

Lorelai tapped her feet restlessly on the floor with soft little _fwap fwap fwap_ sounds, losing herself in unsettling strains of thought.

Luke straightened and let out a heavy breath, puffing out his cheeks, startling Lorelai out of her thoughts. She wondered how long they'd been sitting in silence.

He slapped his knees. "Well, thanks for coming back here."

"Yeah, sure," she said, giving him a friendly pat on the leg, all at once anxious to be at her own home and out of her work clothes.

On the drive home, guilt curdled in her stomach as she thought of Rory. She'd been glad – she couldn't help being glad – weeks ago, when she'd casually asked if Rory had talked to Jess lately and her expression had gone cold. Rory had been noncommittal, changing the subject and ultimately falling into a silence Lorelai hadn't been able to break. When Rory had excused herself and closed herself in her bedroom, Lorelai mentally congratulated Jess on whatever he'd done to kill Rory's sympathy.

She was not proud of the feeling. She couldn't entirely blame herself for it, either. Yes, she was worried for Jess, and she thought he needed a friend, any friend, and it did hurt her to see Rory now in the ranks of everyone else in Stars Hollow regarding Jess, although Rory's attitude toward him seemed to have mellowed into a chilly indifference. And yes, she saw the irony in _her_ being the one trying to defend Jess while Rory was resentful.

But as much as all that was true, she couldn't bring herself to wish that Rory would be the one to be Jess' friend, even if it weren't an obvious impossibility. Being mired in this wasn't a burden she would want for anyone, and especially not for her naïve seventeen-year-old daughter, who could barely handle the emotional stress of accidentally losing the bracelet her boyfriend had given her.

She tried to let it go, because it _was_ impossible. Even if Jess seemed capable of being friends with anyone at all, he'd had a crush on Rory, and now…. Well, now he was an unhappy, abused kid who was so desperate to keep people away that he didn't care if they thought he was violent with girls.

The only thing thinking about it accomplished was to make her so anxious and ashamed she couldn't fall asleep some nights.

Lorelai pushed open the front door of her house wearily, shoes in hand. She dropped them and her purse on the floor in a careless move as soon as she was inside. She could hear the soft sound of the television and was surprised by how glad she was that Rory was still up, and that she couldn't hear Dean.

"Hello," she called, walking into the living room with dragging footsteps.

Rory was alone, reclining on the couch, ready for bed, open textbook in her lap. She twisted and craned her neck awkwardly to look over her shoulder.

"Hi," she said casually, and an ache rose up in Lorelai's chest. With her hair pulled back in a ponytail, her wide, clear eyes brighter than normal catching the light of television and little ice cream cones on her pajamas, Rory looked so young, too young.

"Scootch over," Lorelai commanded, waving her hand. Rory did, sitting up and pulling her book into her lap, leaving open space in the corner of the couch, which Lorelai plopped into with a sigh. She stared blankly at the television.

"Where's the surprise?" Rory asked.

_Shit_.

Lorelai gave her a cryptic look. "Oh, you'll see." She waggled her eyebrows for extra effect.

Rory's forehead creased. "OK," she said slowly, obviously not buying it.

"So when did Dean go home?" Lorelai asked, tone light. Diversionary tactics: always good.

Rory immediately turned her attention to the television, shrugging a shoulder. "About an hour ago."

Lorelai nudged the textbook. "Is this for tomorrow?"

"No, I'm reading ahead."

Lorelai looked at the television again. It was… PBS? Something naturey. She felt another strange surge of an emotion she couldn't describe thinking of how her daughter would rather watch public broadcasting and read ahead for school than do alone-in-the-house things with her boyfriend. There was something painfully innocent about Rory that overwhelmed her at times, and she didn't know if it was a good or a terrible thing that she wouldn't be like this forever.

She put an arm around Rory's shoulders, giving her a little squeeze.

"Mom? Are you OK?"

"Oh, honey, I'm fine," she said easily.

Rory frowned at her for a long moment and finally shut her textbook with a sullen "Fine."

This was stupid, Lorelai told herself. She hated that there was so much she couldn't talk to Rory about anymore – she hated feeling like she was sneaking around and lying with her own daughter.

"No, sorry, Rory," she said, drawing her arm back and twisting to face Rory. She took in a small breath, putting her thoughts into order, before she continued.

"The guy who broke into the diner? His pretrial hearing's a week from tomorrow. I have to go to that."

Rory set her textbook on the coffee table and turned to sit sideways, facing Lorelai, tucking her feet into a cross-legged position.

"Oh? Why do you have to go?"

"Well, I was sort of there. I'm a witness."

Rory nodded, brow furrowing. "OK. How long will that be?"

Lorelai shrugged. "Not very. This is – I don't know, presenting enough evidence to ensure that the prosecution is charging him with appropriate offenses. He won't get sentencing or even testify, I think.

"I just – I've been stressed and Luke is stressed and I've probably been trying to juggle too much and I haven't been telling you about it because I don't want you to stress, too. The whole thing's really… awful, and it's been on my mind a lot.

"So. I know it seems like I've been overprotective lately, but that's because I am. You'll have to cut me some slack on that, because I don't see it ending anytime soon, and I'm not even really going to try to stop. When I do things like refuse to leave for a weekend, it's not because I don't trust you or think you can't handle it. _I_ can't handle it. That's all there is to it, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you before."

"Oh." Rory gripped her feet, interlacing fingers and toes. "Is… Luke all right?"

"He's coping," she said. "This has been kinda huge. The most change the guy's used to is buying a new set of flannel once every decade, so all this upheaval…." Lorelai trailed off, waving her hand in the air.

Rory dropped her gaze. "Is it why Jess quit the diner?" she asked after a long pause. "The break in?"

Lorelai sighed, mentally weighing the benefits of lying. It seemed strange to her that more people hadn't made that connection. "Yeah, partially," she hedged. "I haven't actually talked to Jess much, but this has been kind of a big thing for him, too."

"Oh," Rory said again, voice dropping low.

It would be pretty easy to smooth things over, help clear up whatever had happened between Jess and her daughter. It was an opportunity Lorelai wasn't going to take.

"Hey, Luke and Jess will be fine. Jess'll be fine." It was disconcerting how easy it was getting to say that to people, and Lorelai briefly considered that she was, technically, still lying to Rory. At least part of the truth was better than none of it, she supposed. She tapped Rory's knee. "And I think Jess is going to find a better-paying job in Hartford anyway."

Lorelai congratulated herself on that one, reminding herself to tell Luke about it. Easy way to excuse where Jess would be on Tuesday nights for the next couple of months, if people were willing to believe that he got a job in Hartford just to work one night a week for an hour or two.

Some of the concern cleared from Rory's features. "Oh, good for him," she said airily.

"So…" Rory's eyebrow twitched upward. "You're going to give testimony for a criminal trial?" She looked a little amused, a little impressed.

"Oh, mmhmm." Lorelai twirled a strand of hair casually. "I talked to the state's attorney and everything. He said I was the most important person in the trial." Actually, it was extremely unlikely, according to the man, that she would end up on the stand.

Rory widened her eyes in exaggerated wonder. "Wow. Well, give 'em hell."

Lorelai smiled, but it lacked conviction. "Yeah. So, everything's OK? You're fine if mommy's a little crazy?"

Rory bobbed her head, seeming to debate, a smile toying at the edges of her mouth. "You've always been some sort of crazy, so, yeah. I'm fine."

"Good."

"All right, well, I should get to bed," Rory said, gathering up her school supplies. "Night, Mom."

"Night, sweets."

Lorelai watched Rory until her bedroom door was closed and let her attention wander, eventually ending up on the television again. Her eyesight was bleary, and she couldn't tell if it was because she couldn't focus or because she was tired, but it didn't really matter. It was only PBS, after all.

She sighed and shifted against the cushions, unable to either find a position that was quite comfortable or gather the energy to get up to go to bed. She frowned and grabbed the remote, turning up the volume a little, but not enough to disturb Rory.

Lorelai settled back, figuring she might as well pretend to watch whatever program was on. She knew she wasn't going to be getting any sleep that night.

Luke insisted on driving Jess to his first therapy session, claiming that he wanted to see the place for himself. And, he admitted, he didn't fully believe Jess would go if Luke let him take the bus. Jess was annoyed, but he had to concede to some appreciation for Luke's honesty. The trick was going to be convincing him to let Jess handle it himself in the future. It was infuriating enough that Luke walked with Jess from the apartment to the diner every morning and then watched as Jess walked into the school – and even that much was a near thing. Luke declared, his jaw set stubbornly, that if he heard anything about Jess missing any of his classes from then on, he _would_ walk Jess into the school until the end of the year.

They drove now in tense quiet, Luke commenting occasionally that the traffic wasn't as bad as he'd been expecting, and maybe commuting to Hartford once a week wouldn't be all that awful. Jess offered no replies, his focus fixed on a point just outside the windshield.

"So, ah," Luke mumbled as he exited off the highway, "have you opened those boxes your mom sent yet?"

Jess sighed. Luke saw inside Jess' room every day and knew that he hadn't. "Nope."

"They got here like a week and a half ago."

Jess swung a brief look at his uncle and then turned his head away again.

"You're not curious to know what's in them?""

"Not especially."

"There's just an awful lot of boxes. I was surprised."

There were a lot of boxes – too many, more than he had packed. Liz must have added some items. What, he couldn't guess, but it hardly mattered. Probably second hand knickknacky shit she bought last minute by way of apology for forgetting to mail his stuff for so long. Who knew what made her remember to mail it now. Jess frowned and looked down at his empty hands.

"That is all yours, right?" Luke pressed.

Jess glanced over. "I have to assume so."

"And you don't want to unpack any of that, settle in?"

"I've been doing just fine without it up until now."

"I think you should look in them."

"Jesus Christ, Luke. What is the deal with this? If you have a point, please get to it. It's not as though my disagreement is going to have a lot of weight in the matter, so, you know what, you have my permission to stop talking and do whatever it is you're planning on doing. I don't give a shit."

Luke was quiet, his grip on the steering wheel tightening and shifting. Jess leaned his head back, taking a deep breath through his nose.

"I wasn't planning on anything," Luke said, voice soft.

Jess said nothing, returning his attention to the window, watching as the streets got narrower and shadier, and wondered idly if Luke wasn't completely lost.

The address turned out to be a large old house, bearing only a sign on the porch railing to indicate that the building was a business rather than someone's home. It accounted for how residential the area was, and Jess wondered wearily if there was anywhere in the state of Connecticut that wasn't so gosh-darn homey. There wasn't a parking lot, just a long driveway lined with well-trimmed bushes. Luke pulled up to the curb and put the truck in park, leaning over into Jess' space a little to look through his window at it.

"That doesn't look really professional," he mused. "Are we sure that's the right address?"

That was quite an accusation coming from a man who lived in a town that didn't have a single office building. The thought made Jess briefly grateful that he wasn't getting therapy above a porcelain unicorn shop.

"Looks about as legitimate as a hardware store outfitted as a diner," Jess replied dully. Luke made a small affronted noise.

"Well, we're only twenty minutes early. I guess it's OK to wait inside that long." Luke shifted and Jess turned to see him unbuckling.

"You are not coming in with me."

Luke looked up at him, hands frozen on the latch of his seatbelt. He seemed to consider for a long moment, eventually relaxing back into his seat and drawing his hands into his lap with a deliberation that reminded Jess of a person trying not to startle an animal. Jess pressed his mouth shut in irritation.

"Jess," he started, and then trailed off. He rubbed his face with one hand, pulling at the skin under his eyes. "I'm trying."

"Trying to what? There's no requirement for you to come. Do you even _want_ to go in?"

"No," Luke said quickly. "But I should meet your therapist, at least, and, you know…"

"I'll go inside, Luke. I'll sit in the fucking office and go to all the sessions. I don't want to spend any more time in court, either. And I'm not a child. This isn't my first day of school, and you're not gonna hold my hand." There was no heat in his argument. He didn't even really feel angry about it, and, if Luke pressed, Jess didn't think he'd keep fighting.

Luke watched him closely, his expression, for once, unreadable. "OK, Jess. Whatever you want."

Jess didn't even have the energy to laugh at that. He sighed and climbed out of the truck, and Luke called after him, "I'll just drive around the area for a while. I'll be back here at 6:00."

"Great," Jess said, waving over his shoulder.

He didn't look behind him as he walked to the building, but he could hear the soft rumble of the truck's idling engine. He could imagine Luke hunkering down in his seat - as though that made him less conspicuous - watching Jess until he went inside.

In spite of what he said, Jess did want to skip this session. He had no interest in therapy, in making up for the schoolwork he'd missed or finishing out his courses through summer school. He wanted to crawl out a back window and hop on the bus and get the fuck out of the state.

It was easy to imagine, standing there with his hand on the doorknob to this strange old house-cum-mental health ward and Stars Hollow miles behind him. His heart beat hard as he pulled the door open, picturing it, picturing himself with nothing but the clothes he was wearing, sitting on a bus full of strangers, taking him anywhere. He had no money, but what did that matter? He had enough for a ticket, and then he could do it, he could be gone to places where no one knew him.

As he stepped inside, he envisioned his hand on a railing, pulling himself up bus stairs, breathing in lungfuls of recycled air. The mental picture dissipated as wood creaked under his feet. He blinked and he was back to himself, in an old house.

It was decently well maintained – the floors were dark and lusterless and there were fine cracks in the walls near the ceiling, but there were no discolorations or holes or saggy ceilings. There was a staircase directly in front of him – to his right, a wall with arched doorways, leading to rooms he couldn't quite see – to his left, an open office that looked largely administrative in nature. A wan middle-aged man with fine blond hair stood by the desk, a stack of papers in his hand. He smiled.

"Can I direct you somewhere?"

Jess had pushed the door shut behind him, but his hand was still on the knob. His fingers tightened around it reflexively. "I have a five o'clock with Dr. Bhatt."

"Great," he said, with what seemed like genuine enthusiasm. Good god. "She's upstairs and to the right. Her door's marked. It's probably also shut at the moment, but if not, go right on in. Otherwise, you can wait in one of the chairs in the hall."

Jess nodded, letting go of the doorknob with some effort.

The stairs curved and emptied into a small, open landing area, lit by a multi-story window at Jess' back. Another staircase led to a third floor, and in the immediate area were four doors, each marked with a name plate, and a narrow hallway off to the left. One door was open, and what he could see of the office was unoccupied. He could hear low voices behind a closed door beside him and he took an unconscious step away.

He read "Dr. A. Bhatt" on a closed door diagonal from him and shifted his weight restlessly. He didn't want to knock – he had, at the least, fifteen minutes to wait until the appointment was scheduled to begin. There was one chair flush against the wall between two doors, neither of which belonged to his therapist.

Jess sat, chewing on his lip and clasping his hands loosely between his knees. The murmurs coming from the office behind his shoulder were louder, but still indistinct. Fairly easy to ignore.

He let his head hang to look at his fingers, at the sleeves that fell past his wrists. Slowly, he pushed the edge of a sleeve back a little with a thumb. The skin seemed normal unless you were looking closely. The places that had been cut more deeply were still marked with dark, thin stripes, hypersensitive to his own hesitant touch. He was sure it was phantom sensation – there was no reason for his wrists to hurt anymore, but sometimes they pulsed with pain.

He raised his eyes, leaving his neck bent, looking through his bangs. He tried to clear his vision with a small shake of his head, but his hair was so long now that it hung in his eyes all the time. He flicked his attention back down to his hands.

Jess startled when a door opened and a short, straight-spined woman, looking to be somewhere in her forties, emerged. Her hair and her eyes were dark, her cheekbones broad, face plain.

"You're Jess Mariano," she said, not really a question, and he nodded. "Right this way, please."

Her office was small and simple. There was a desk tucked in the corner – tidy and decorated only one picture frame, facing away from Jess – two large chairs toward the center of the room, facing each other, and a couch pushed against the wall, under the window. There was a mini-fridge by the desk and a small coffee maker perched on top of it. Behind the desk were floor-to-ceiling inlaid bookshelves full of textbooks. Scanning the titles, Jess caught sight of _The Family: Roles, Responsibilities and Rights_, _Generational Transmission of Violence in Child Abuse_, and the DSM-IV-TR.

"I'm Dr. Asha Bhatt," she said, closing the door behind her. She indicated that Jess should take a seat in one of the chairs in the middle of the room as she walked briskly by him to her desk, where she grabbed a notepad and a file. He noticed that her hands were thin and worn in a way that made him wonder if she wasn't older than he had initially guessed. "You can call me whatever you like."

Jess shifted awkwardly for a moment before taking his seat.

She sat across from him, folding her hands over the paper in her lap. "Is there a particular way you'd like to be addressed?"

Jess shook his head.

"So Jess is fine?"

He nodded, curling his fingers around the edges of his shirtsleeves.

"Great. Well, Jess, just to get formalities out of the way, everything you say to me is confidential. It doesn't matter that you're a minor or here under court order. Nothing you tell me will leave this office. The only exception to that is if you tell me you plan to hurt yourself or another person. That, I have to report to the proper authorities. Do you have any questions?" He gave the barest shake of his head.

"Your records here say that you've been mandated to attend therapy once a week for 60-minute sessions for a total of 12 sessions or until you turn 18, whichever comes first. Since your birthday is in August, you get the benefit of all 12 sessions."

She paused, and Jess assumed she was expecting some kind of reply, but he kept his focus on the floor.

"That's not a lot of time. Have you considered pursuing therapy after the mandate expires?"

Jess sighed, rubbing his chin, where there was a thin layer of patchy stubble. "I can't say it's crossed my mind."

"There are a lot of options if you want them. Some free, some at a reduced price. We make it a point at this office to ensure that anyone who wants therapy can get it. If you're interested, you could start attending one of the men's groups. And you could do that any time. They're free."

He looked up then, confused. "Men's groups?"

"Male survivors of assault," she explained easily.

He had no immediate reply to that. For a moment, surprise flattened his emotions, blanked out his thoughts.

"Naturally we wouldn't mix them with the women's groups," she continued, bringing Jess partially back to the conversation. "There are three in total that meet at various times during the week. One on Thursday evening, one on Tuesday evening, and one on Saturday morning. You could go to any one or multiple sessions if you're interested. I lead the Thursday session – they all meet downstairs."

Jess blinked stupidly for a moment. He couldn't imagine how awful a group therapy session would be. He couldn't even picture what the people in attendance would be like. He had no frame of reference for _other_ "male survivors of assault." The thought made him uneasy.

"No," he said, a blanket refusal of all offers.

"All right," she said, unaffected. "Let me know if you change your mind."

"You bet," he replied, dry-throated and snide.

"The court has laid out some guidelines – measurable success. They want you to stay in school and pass your junior year, and to attend summer school if that's necessary. No more altercations with other students. I'd say that's all easily attainable, wouldn't you?"

Jess sighed, sinking into his chair.

"These are fine, but I think shouldn't be the focus of our sessions. What I'm more interested in is what your personal goals are."

He watched her, disbelieving. "Personal goals?"

"Yes. What would you like to get out of this? It could be as simple or as ambitious as you like, but something you think you can attain. We can discuss it more now or you can think about it for a week, but it should be something meaningful to _you_, and something you decide."

He couldn't think of anything to say to that. He held up an empty hand, shrugging. "I'd like to not ever have to talk to a therapist again."

She hardly missed a beat in her reply. "This is a lot more difficult because you didn't choose to be here. I understand that, Jess, and I'm sorry that these are the circumstances under which we have to have sessions. I would really like you to try to take advantage of the situation. A lot of good can come from this."

Jess' skin prickled. "You think I need to be here," he said, sounding much more defensive than he meant to.

"You don't think there's any benefit you can gain from therapy?"

If she was going to answer his questions with questions as a regular thing, Jess really was going to climb out a window.

"No, I don't."

He was preparing to answer the question he expected – "why?" – when she asked, "How are you sleeping?"

He paused with his jaw half-open, retort caught in his throat. His eyebrows pulled together. "Fine."

She didn't react as far as he could tell, holding his gaze impassively. "Any changes in your eating habits?"

"No."

"How about your friends?"

"What about them?" A familiar, burning anger he hadn't felt for weeks started to rise in his chest.

"How are your relationships with them? Have there been any significant changes?"

_I don't have any friends_ wasn't exactly the stinging reply Jess was hoping to lob at her. He thought, briefly, of Rory, her hair streaming out behind her as she walked away from him.

"Nothing significant."

"And your family – you live with your uncle, is that correct?" Jess nodded. "How's your relationship with him?"

"Better than ever," Jess said, but he was running out of steam. His head hurt.

"All right," she said. "Why haven't you been attending classes?"

"I wasn't going before, either. This isn't new."

Dr. Bhatt ran her fingers over the edge of her notepad, tapping it gently. "Your principal and teachers claim a dramatic increase in your truancy since the attack. How many full days of school did you attend between returning and the fight with Gabriel?"

Jess bit the inside of his cheek. He could see the file that doubtless bore his name sticking out from under her notepad. It looked thin and he couldn't tell what kind of documents were in it, but she had read them and was asking him shit she already knew.

She was watching him patiently, waiting for an answer. He had no idea how much school he'd gone to, but he had the feeling that saying he'd fully attended any of his classes might be a stretch. He simply hadn't made it to the entrance most of the time.

"I don't know," he replied with a sarcastic twist of his mouth. "All of them?"

She made no reply, holding Jess' gaze for a moment before looking back down at her papers. "What were you doing instead of going to school?"

"Hooking, mostly."

Her eyes came up to meet his with a cool, unamused expression. Yeah, Luke hadn't thought that was funny, either.

"Jess," she started, but he spoke over her.

"What does the file say?" he snapped.

She lifted her eyebrows a little and pulled out the folder from under her notepad. She held it out to him. "Do you want to read it?"

Jess' heart gave a small lurch. Was everything in that file? School transcripts, police report, medical information, hospital records? When he blinked it was a flash of light, and behind his eyelids was a nurse gently rotating his arm to take pictures of his lacerated wrists. A cramp rippled through his stomach and he sucked in air between his teeth.

"No," he said, hardly more than breathing. He pressed his lips together against the panicky swell of emotion in his throat.

When he lifted his eyes to meet hers, she was watching him with a focus that unsettled him. Her expression wasn't pitying or judgmental or anything else he was used to seeing from the people in town, but her attention was fixed on him in a way he was completely unused to. He felt suddenly exposed, and angry with her for no reason he could voice.

She tucked the file beneath her notepad again and rotated her pen a full circle between two thin fingers. "You can always see that if you want to, Jess. My notes as well. I don't wish to keep anything from you."

He breathed in deeply, trying to come up with a reply that would make her stop talking, but his throat felt weak and he didn't trust himself to speak without his sentences breaking.

"I aim to be completely honest with you, Jess," she continued. "So I will warn you that some of the things I write and say won't be what you want to hear. Of course, I get the impression that you aren't interested in anything I have to say, honest or otherwise." Her eyebrows rose minutely, but she didn't seem perturbed by his attitude.

"I'm not going to say or do anything just to provoke reactions from you, and I'm not going to talk just for the sake of being honest. That doesn't mean that I consider myself an authority on your situation, and the more I know about you the more I can help you. I need you to be honest with me in return. Tell me if you think I'm wrong, or if you think what I'm saying is bullshit, or if I'm upsetting you."

She shifted her shoulders back and let out a small sigh, expression hovering close to wryness. "Until you feel comfortable with that, I'll settle for you not being deliberately evasive. That doesn't help either one of us."

Jess couldn't think of any response.

"All right," she said, as blithely as if he had agreed with her. "Let's start with something simple – part of what brought you here. What started the fight?"

His jaw clenched, the skin on his arms and shoulders prickling.

"Were fights a problem before?"

His body went cold. "Before _what_?" he snapped.

There was one moment of quiet before Dr. Bhatt responded, "Before moving to Stars Hollow."

His lip curled. "At which school?"

Her eyebrows twitched up. "How many were there?"

"Come on, that _has_ to be in the file."

"I'd like you to tell me, Jess."

He sighed, casting his mind back. "For high school… three."

"Between your freshman and sophomore years?" He didn't say anything. She knew the answer. "That's a lot. And that makes Stars Hollow your fourth school in the last three years."

"Yep."

"Were physical altercations common occurrences at your other schools?"

"Common enough."

"Can you tell me –"

He had no idea what she was going to ask, but he cut her off before she could finish. "I hit a girl. That was what started the fight."

Dr. Bhatt paused, fixing her dark eyes on his. She flattened her fingers against her notepad but said nothing. Good. He'd meant for that to shut her up.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment, and Jess wished she'd show any fucking sort of discernible reaction.

"What provoked it?" Dr. Bhatt asked, her tone infuriatingly neutral. He sighed. "Were you arguing?"

"No. I don't even know her."

Her brow furrowed minutely and she propped her elbow on the arm of her chair, resting her jaw in her open palm. "What happened?"

"I was out behind the school smoking. She grabbed my arm and I pushed her. Her boyfriend took exception."

"She just grabbed your arm?"

He could almost feel it again, the soft tickling sensation of fingers on his bicep.

"Yeah, to get my attention or something," he said after a long pause, his voice raw.

He remembered the girl's expression clearly, her eyes enormous, hands raised defensively. Jess had been about as surprised as she had at his reaction – a sharp, split-second movement of his forearm against her collarbone, shoving her backwards.

There had been only one more second where they'd held each other's gaze, Jess shocked, his heart pulsing a rapid staccato beat that he could feel in his jaw, in his feet. And then a hand was on his shoulder, pushing him into the wall, the kid's other hand making clumsy but solid impact with Jess' cheek.

"You weren't expecting the touch," Dr. Bhatt said, drawing Jess back to the conversation.

He held her calm gaze briefly before the swelling anger that had been pushing at his ribs finally snapped free.

"It doesn't mean a fucking thing, all right?" he bit out. Dr. Bhatt sat up straight in her chair again, watching him closely.

"This shit's always been on my record. This is exactly what every person who's ever met me would tell you I'm like. This _is_ what I'm like. It's not the fucking school I go to or _surviving_ an _assault_," he said, lacing the words with as much disdain as he could muster. "All right?"

"All right, Jess," she said.

After that, Dr. Bhatt told him she'd let him decide what topic he was comfortable discussing, and so the rest of the session dragged out mostly in silence. She still didn't seem bothered, and reminded him again before he left that she wanted him to have ideas for personal goals for next Tuesday. He grunted out an indiscernible reply and left as quickly as he could without seeming too anxious.

By the time he reached the front door and blew past the same vacantly pleasant man at reception without acknowledgment, the tension was draining out of him again, leaving exhaustion in its wake. The only thing he felt when he saw Luke's truck in what may have been the same spot, still idling, was muted relief.

He climbed in with the barest acknowledgement for his uncle, and he ignored the close way Luke was watching his face. There was an expectant quiet while Luke put the truck in gear, and Jess propped his head in his palm, elbow against the window. He closed his eyes, hoping Luke would go with his better judgment and not ask about it.

"So," Luke said as he pulled away from the curb. "How did that go?"

Jess cracked one eye open to watch the trees speed by. "Great," he said dully. "I'm all better."

to be continued


End file.
